


Various Requests!!

by Escritora2Aliasfox



Category: Big Hero 6, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Gorillaz, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural, etc... - Fandom
Genre: Requests, comissions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2018-10-24 05:37:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10735242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Escritora2Aliasfox/pseuds/Escritora2Aliasfox
Summary: Conditions in the first chapter... hope you enjoiy!(I had to change the title of this thing and a couple of tags just in case)





	1. Conditions and stuff

I said in the summary of my ao3 page I’d like to write requests… but i didn’t get any jet! So I thoug about making it official now!

See, last night I had a rough time before going to sleep. And once in bed i thoug…  
“it would be nice to have a reassuring fic or something…”  
But I didn’t think I would find anything like that.  
“may as well write it myself”

 

How would a fic like that be? Well, it would be an experiment…  
A few years ago I was hyper in the Gorillaz fandom, for example (I even had a crush-thingy going on with 2-d)  
I had then a quite disgusting nightmare were a handfull of huge spider-grasshopper creatures chased me, cornered me and attacked me in my room…  
And then I woke up. I looked arround and passed my hands throu my hair and tried to calm down… but I was afraid I would have a bad dream if I managed to sleep again…  
So I decided to daydream. I concentrated very hard… and 2-d was lying in bed behind me. He was half-zombie, and he yawned, but still he rolled up and pass his arms across my waist to tell me (with sleepy voice) that it had been just a dream and I could calm down. I did have a nice rest after that.

Imagine that scene with your fandom crush. Think of it being Sam Winchester or Tadashi Hamada, and I will be happy to write it the best I can!

 

So, in this fanfiction I am going to be making requests. The nature of each story will be indicated in the tytle and summary of each chapter, and there may be fluf, confort, angst, porn… whatever you ask for.

The only problem Is the fandoms… wich fandoms could I write of?  
Well anything that i know, like supernatural, Good Omens, Harry Potter, One Piece, Teen Wolf, Gorillaz, BGS, FBAWTFT, ROTG, HTTYD…

Em, the list can be quite long and still I may be able to write of shows I don’t follow closely…

Just ask for whatever and i’ll answer whether i can or not write it and try to do my best.

  


PS: I can write in spanish or english, and I can write explicit material, but it must be specified in the request


	2. 2-D and reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a nightmare.   
> Good thing 2-D is there to distract you.

SHIT!!

You jump in bed, your hands in front of you, in the dark.  
Shaken, you still look around… still too dark. Still silent.

One second ago a weird guy was chasing you dress like something hairy and deformed and some tool on his hand… or was it a monster?

Oh, nope. Just a nightmare.  
Fuuuck (you whine lowly) you usually don’t have nightmares realistic and scary enough to jump in bed and stay shaken… but everyone gets one sometimes in life… right?  
Specially with Murdoc being an asshole (as usual) and playing with one of Russel’s experiments at dinner.

It was hard not to loose your appetite with that half dead half Murdoc thing staring at you and giggling…

…you take a few seconds to breathe deeply, and then lie in bed again.  
Your eyes turn around in the dark, nothing to see… bu t the creeped out sensation still there.

Hump

Turning to lie on your side, frowning, you get ready for a long night of either sleeplessness, or uneasy dreams filed with half nude half dead hairy Murdoc…

The mattress shifts. Oh, craaap. You forgot for a moment: 2-D is sleeping next to you!  
Or at least he was… Hope he stays asleep! Your relationship is still relatively recent and you don’t want to expend an akward night of ‘sorry I woke you up, now may we stare into the dark…?’

So you nearly hold your breath, as the swift sound and pressure progresses…  
…and then slowly, (insecure, maybe?) a hand reaches your side… and then a sleek arm snakes all around your waist.

A little smile peeks at your lips, and you close your eyes, feeling his yawn against the back of your neck.  
Then, silence… and a whisper.

“…babe? …r’ you awake?” His calming voice sounds even better when sleepy.  
“…maybe?”

You can’t see him smile, but you do feel his sigh.  
“ ‘n why? …c’nnot sleep?”

You are holding back a giggle at how cute and funny he sounds in zombie mode.

 

“…had a nightmare”

His embrace tightens a little bit, in the form of a caress. You don’t want him to say ‘I’m sorry’ why be sorry? Is just a dream and he didn’t…

“s okay. Just a dream. I got you” sloppy kiss to the nape of your neck “think of nisse things…” miny yawn “and rest”

This feels so cozy and relaxing… you do close your eyes happily and relax, moving a bit to fit back in place.

…

But lets be real. You are awake now and you can’t sleep.  
Instead you just enjoy the rest, but without going back to full rem just jet…

Just close your eyes, let a deep breath go, and rest.  
It is calm. No fear anymore. Just the warm feeling of 2-D and his breath on your neck…  
It feels like his breath is the only thing holding you back from consciousness. 

Yea, they don’t tell you in cheesy movies sharing a bed has its issues.  
But you can not move, you’d wake him up!! Perhaps just a little bit… to find another pose…  
Nope. 2-D sighs. Just a little bit…?  
He sighs again and tries to move slightly…

Oh, wait… is that… of course.  
You sleep with a guy you know its gonna be three in bed: Him, you and his dick.  
You giggle. He mumbles something.

“what’s that?”  
“um… nothing”  
“ok”

But you snuggle back into him… and you feel something pressed against your lower back… and he gasps

“Hey…”  
“I though it was nothing”

He chuckles and holds you tighter. You move a bit more and it turns into a pull and push between the two of you, until he turns you a bit on his arms and you guys kiss.

There’s the gap between his teeth. You find it adorkable. Everything in him is adorkable. Kisses turn into bites.

He goes down your collarbone…  
“I though you were in zombie mode”  
You soon regret saying that, for he bites you in the base of the neck.

“YAW!!”   
“Oh, sorry babe I was just hungry”  
“Oh I know how to fix that…”

You snake your arms downwards… for revenge.

2-D is a skinny boy, and his ribs show…and they are ticklish.

“AAW NO!!”  
“MUAHAHA!!!”

And there is a battle for each other’s ribs that lasts way too long. You are already exausted of laughing and struggling and your poor ribs have turned shore…   
When he takes your feet hostage.

“Noooo please, let me!”  
He makes that evil-laugh-face that looks extra creepy because of his black eyes and bites you in the ankle.

You kick him. Uops!

“I’m sorry! I’m soo sorry, you ok? Love?”  
But he doesn’t answer and just goes back to bed above you and holds your wrists down.  
“No, no no babe! I’m sorry Im… ah!”  
He bites you and licks you all over the neck  
“Let me go you golden retriever!”

“Hey! Some people wanna SLEEP! Thi’s no plastic palace!!”  
There’s banging on the door. Murdoc does have an awful waking up… specially at 3 in the morning.

“Sorry…” 2-D is back in his shy mode. That’s what you are there for.  
“Fuck off Muds! Go find someone to help you sleep!”

Murdoc keeps banging the door and complaining. But you know him and know his weaknesses… wich you can deal with later. Right now you have a vocalist to distract from the door.

You kiss him, and bite his neck. Hi finds your legs wrap around his waist and carasses them.  
Its going to be a long night.


	3. Aziraphale and Crowley in spanish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this came out long!  
>  Well, hope you like it... and thanks for the request! I don't really write in spanish that much and i really should practice more...

Como todas las grandes ciudades, Madrid tiene de todo, superpoblación incluida.

Hay humo y edificios altos que se iluminan por las noches hasta que no parece de noche, y ruido y cosas interesantes en cada esquina.   
Y parques. Muchos parques.

El parque mas popular de Madrid es el Retiro. Incluye no uno, sino varios lagos conectados con pequeños canales y riachuelos artificiales.  
También hay estatuas y plazas y barcas… y un palacio de cristal y un zoológico que ya no se usa.

En un rincón, pegado al retiro, hay un jardín botánico que parece un pequeño bosque… y allí hay otro pequeño lago, donde crecen madroños y cisnes negros.

Azirafel se pone de cuclillas, y recoge madroños blandurrios del suelo para dárselos a los cisnes en mano.

Los inmensos pájaros negros de cuello largo y pico rojo le miran fijamente con desconfianza, pero aun así comen de su mano. También tienen los ojos rojos.  
Le recuerdan a Crowley. Azirafel piensa sinceramente que son mas bonitos que los cisnes blancos: tienen las plumas de la cola rizadas, como un vestido de sevillanas negro.

“Esto no es tan distinto de St. Jame’s Park, Crowley… Crowley?”  
Crowley esta de pie unos pasos mas allá. Su traje impecable, sin una arruga, y mira hacia la puerta distraídamente.  
“Eh? Ah, si, si, ángel”

Azirafel suspira, y se pone en pie.  
“Querido. Si te estas aburriendo podemos ir a otro sitio… La estación de Atocha esta ahí mismo. Podemos incluso visitar una ciudad mas… tranquila”  
“¿Qué? No, no… aun tenemos que… encontrar el barrio chino, y el Rastro, y la estatua de Don Quijote y Sancho Panza… y luego hay que comer! No se si hay un Ritz, pero seguro que hay algún sitio con vinos decentes…”

Azirafel suspira. Crowley parecía emocionado cuando le convenció para ‘ir a ver el mundo que habían salvado… o, bueno, ayudado a salvar’ Y también le había convencido de que ‘no se puede apreciar toda España en un fin de semana… quiero vacaciones prolongadas’ había dicho ‘y las quiero contigo’ había dicho también. 

Azirafel había quedado en Shock, y Crowley había farfullado que el ángel era la única compañía decente que conocía, y que merecía vacaciones también… por haber ayudado a salvar el mundo y todo eso.

Pero Crowley había estado distraído todo el viaje. Casi como si llegara tarde a alguna parte. No pudo dormir cuando se quedaron en una casa rural cerca de los pirineos, ni parecía disfrutar de las extrañas formas y colores exuberantes de Barcelona.  
El valle del Jerte estaba en flor cuando llegaron, pero Crowley miraba a todo con un aire serio y casi enfermizo.

Azirafel le expresó su preocupación cuando le pilló sentado con aire de agotamiento entre las almenas de uno de los muchos castillos que se pueden visitar en los campos del centro de la península. Hacía frío, pero Crowley sudaba.

¿Habría pillado un virus? (No era imposible, si el demonio estaba lo bastante distraido) Tal vez la nueva gastronomía le había sentado mal… No. Crowley apenas había probado bocado.  
(Lo cual anulaba la posibilidad de emborracharle para sacarle algo)

“Querido, creo que el Rastro solo esta los domingos por la mañana…”  
“Ah, bien, Bien”  
“…y hoy es martes. Y tu querías visitar otras ciudades…”  
“Oh, bueno pero no hay prisa, podemos quedarnos hasta el domingo y así lo vemos todo con calma”

Azirafel boqueó como un pez.  
“Que…quedarnos hasta el domingo?! ¡Pero…!”  
“Si no te apetece… podemos seguir adelante y volver en domingo… si quieres”  
“¿Estas seguro de que estas bien?”  
“No se a que te refieres”

Y Azirafel no le volvió a preguntar.  
Hasta la tarde del jueves, cuando se habían quedado sin cosas para hacer en Madrid.

Crowley dormía en la cama de al lado mientras Azirafel leía un libro.   
Lo había comprado en una tiendecita de una callejuela del centro, donde un hombre (que se parecía un poco a su corporación) vendía libros antiguos y raros.  
El ángel se había pasado horas mirando uno y otro, y conversando (amablemente, para variar) con el vendedor, y para cuando hubo terminado sabía que tendría que comprar otra maleta para el viaje de vuelta.

“Y el restro del viaje, ángel” había dicho Crowley. “No vamos a volver derechitos a Londres desde esta tiendecita de libros… ¿por qué no hechas un vistazo, a ver si hay algo mas que te pueda apetecer…?”  
“¿Intentas tentarme?” Preguntó Azirafel.

El hecho de que cargaba con una montaña de libros casi tan alta como él rebajaba un poco el tono serio de su voz.

“No, digo que tenemos tiempo de sobra y sería una pena perderse cualquier otra… em, oportunidad”  
“…que pretendes, vieja serpiente?”

Crowley no había respondido. Había evadido la pregunta con una expresión tímida y cómica. Azirafel se encontraba ahora mismo incapaz de concentrarse en su nuevo libro viejo, (cosa que no le pasaba muy a menudo) y desviando su mirada una y otra vez a la cama de al lado, donde Crowley se movía en sueños.

‘La paranoia es una cosa natural en los demonios… no espero que lo entiendas, ángel’   
Le había espetado cuando se le ocurrió preguntar. Azirafel aún dudaba si debería haber captado algún tipo de tono en sus palabras.

No lo entendía; pero tampoco podía dormir con Crowley girando en la cama hasta quedarse enredado en las sábanas y haciendo ruidos extraños.  
Él nunca dormía, pero sabía que durante el sueño, se sueña, y que puede ser raro, placentero… o una pesadilla. (Literalmente)

Crowley siguió dando vueltas en la cama y haciendo ruidos cada vez mas insistentes, y mas agudos, y Azirafel decidió que tenía una excusa para despertarle.

Y por qué necesitaba una excusa, y cual era su verdadera intención, no lo quiso pensar.

Crowley despertó con un sobresalto y levantó las manos en plan casi defensivo.  
“Tranquilo, soy yo”  
“Yo… Azirafel” Crowley se agarró al chaleco de tela escocesa de Azirafel, como si necesitara sujetarse a algo, aunque fuera feísimo.

“Que… por que…?”  
“Ah… um, ¡Ah! E-esque no me dejabas dormir… digo leer. Si. Hacías ruido en la cama. Al dormir.  
“…Oh. Mis disculpas… em…” Crowley se zafó de él y se levantó tan pronto que se tambaleó y tuvo que sujetarse en la mesilla de noche.  
“Yo… procuraré dormir mas en… silencio, y tu por favor no me despiertes”

Ya esta. Que uno sea un ángel no significa que sea tonto.

“Eres consciente, querido, de la soberana… patata que acabas de decir?”

Crowley se giró a mirarle. “¿Patata?”  
“…No es ese… el termino? Oh, bueno da igual Crowley…”  
“A lo mejor podríamos pasar el rato poniéndote al día primero la ropa y ahora esto”  
“Crowley”  
“Creía que le dabas buen uso al ordenador… que tal eso del Internet?”  
“¡Crowley, deja de cambiarme el tema!”

Crowley se quedó estático. “No… se de que me hablas, tu has…”

Oh, no.

“Me vas a contar ahora mismo que te pasa. Por qué estas tan distraído, por qué quieres pasarte toda la semana en Madrid y que demo… pamplinas estabas soñando”

Crowley tardó unos momentos en reaccionar

“Ese no es el término apropiado, ángel”  
“Me da igual. ¿Qué te pasa?” Crowley aceleró para hacerse el nudo de la corbata en tiempo record. Aún tenia la camiseta y los calzones con los que había dormido.  
“A lo mejor hablamos cuando hayas aprendido castellano”  
“Sabes muy bien que ambos hablamos cual idioma nos plazca”

Crowley chasqueó los dedos y lucía traje de nuevo.  
“Pues actualiza tu vocabulario”   
“No te atrevas a cambiarme el tema otra vez”  
“Por ultima vez, ángel. No se de que me estas hablando”

Azirafel cerró los ojos, respiró profundamente, y tomó una decisión arriesgada.

“Se me acabó la paciencia. Si no me dices la verdad aquí y ahora, …no… se lo que voy a hacer pero no te va a gustar”

Crowley decidió no responder a eso y caminar bastante rápido hacia la puerta   
(porque correr sería aceptar la mentira)

Pero antes de alcanzar la puerta escuchó detrás de si (y sintió, mediante vibraciones y energía) algo que le hizo poner la piel de gallina y todo el bello de punta.

Azirafel había sacado sus alas, que, no entraban en la habitación bien extendidas, y se impulsaba para saltar y caer sobre él.

Sin tiempo para reaccionar, Crowley se encontró boca abajo, sujeto bajo los pies (enfundados en calcetines de tela escocesa) con Azirafel doblado por la mirad e inclinado sobre él, alas semi abiertas, hacia delante. Como un ave de presa.

Un pie bajo sus hombros, otro en la base del cuello.  
(como se sujeta a una serpiente) De haber sido Azirafel un ser humano Crowley podría girar y hacerle perder el equilibrio… pero Azirafel era un ángel de rango medio tirando para bajo, y Crowley, un demonio de rango bajo, tirando para medio.

“Dime por qué me has arrastrado hasta Europa y a través de España serpiente inmunda!” Azirafel usaba un tono ancestral: Un ser humano sentiría miedo y malas vibraciones.  
Crowley notaba el acento enoquiano y el calor ardiente de luz invisible emanado de su boca.

Azirafel no le había tratado así desde el Acuerdo. …bueno, sin contar un puñado de ocasiones de mayor o menor importancia…   
(no se puede convivir durante siglos sin algún que otro altibajo)  
Le hacía sentir como una culebra atrapada bajo la zarpa de un secretario.

“Yo- yo no… Azirafel, te estas imaginando cosas”  
“Dime la verdad o te juro por Él que tendrás que hacer mucho papeleo para poder volver a por tu coche!”

Crowely entró en shock.

“¡No! No por favor n- abajo no… no me hagas volver ¡Por favor! Cualquier cosa menos eso…”

Azirafel se puso mas recto, cambiando su expresión de enfado a estupor. Y entonces procesó un dato:  
Crowley estaba asustado.  
Muy asustado. Parecía que estaba en pánico. Y a Crowley no se le veía en este estado muy a menudo… Azirafel le había empujado a ello.

“Oh, ...valla…”  
Azirafel se apartó de encima de su espalda y se acuclilló junto a Crowley, que no hizo ningún esfuerzo por incorporarse… y siguió temblando.  
Tenía que dar explicaciones. Ahora. Nada de rehuir. En cualquier momento Azirafel diría…  
“Crowley, querido. ¿Que puede haber que no puedas contarme? ¿Qué te tiene tan… estresado?”

Crowley se coloca un poco mejor, apoyado en los codos… escondiendo la cara en los antebrazos.

“Crowley…” Azirafel siente haberle presionado… y no sabe si debería… pero pone una mano en su hombro, y le impulsa un poco.  
Se encuentra con unos ojos amarillos llenos de lágrimas.  
“¿Es que no es obvio? ¡Evitamos el fin del mundo! …Y vamos a pagar por ello”  
“…No, Crowley. Adam dijo que estaríamos bien”  
“¡Adam renunció a sus poderes! Ya no puede hacer nada. Vendrán a por nosotros…”  
“Crowley. No nos han molestado aún. Lo mas probable es que procuren ignorar el asunto… y reorganizar sus… vidas inmortales”  
“¡Lo mas probable! ¿Y si no? ¿Y si no, que? ¿Eh? ¿Qué vamos a hacer?”  
“…No podemos hacer nada. Es inefable”

Crowley se incorpora y le encara con la velocidad de una serpiente. Su tono es furioso, pero también desesperado.

“¡Claro porque los de tu lado son bondadosos y gentiles y lo peor que pueden hacerte es dejarte caer, verdad?”

Azirafel se hecha hacia atrás, sus alas han saltado de una posición a otra, y le han hecho caer sobre su trasero. Ahora esta sentado.

“¿Sabes…? Tu… ¿Sabes lo que me dijeron? Cuando perdí al anticristo me dijeron ‘Esperamos que tengas una buena excusa… todos querrán oírla… no importa cual sea el sufrimiento de todos los condenados, el tuyo será peor’ ”

Hubo un silencio. Interrumpido por el ‘glup’ que hizo la garganta de Azirafel.

“…y eso, fue antes de que yo matara a un duque del infierno… y engañara al otro. Y le plantara cara al… al padre de Adán, ¡cuando el crío deicidio que a la mierda sus planes!”

Crowley se retrajo en si mismo una vez mas. 

“Que me harán ahora… tu no lo puedes entender. Eres un ángel”

Otro silencio. Azirafel de verdad no sabía que decir.  
“…Es que aunque ellos decidieran dejarme en paz…Hastur me odia. Fue humillado… es personal. Y retorcido y tiene… todo el tiempo de la eternidad… ¿Qué pasará si me… estrello con el bentley o… me cae un rayo? ¿Y si vuelvo abajo? ¿Qué clase de… papeleo crees que me espera?”

Azirafel necesitaba decir cualquier cosa. Algo. Aunque fuera de manera instintiva.  
“Crowley, querido… lo primero que debes hacer es calmarte… puede que no sea tan grave… tu no sabes…”  
“No se, ¿Que? Tu no sabes como es, allí abajo, ángel. No sabes lo que es, después de estar allí. No tienes ni idea, de cómo es, ¡Caer! ¿Y si caes, ángel? ¿Entonces que? ¿Qué pasa si caes?” … “…No se que hago”

Azirafel no sabía que decir. Un montón de nueva información bullía en su cabeza intentando no chocarse con el ajetreado tráfico de emociones. Solo podía actuar por instinto.  
Instinto humano. Principalmente. Cosas, que tiene, tanto tiempo entre primates.

Se echó adelante, y muy despacito, pasó una mano por los hombros de otro, que estaba en shock y no se resistió.  
Muy despacito, como si fuera un niño pequeño, lo atrajo hacia si, contra su pecho, y le rodeó con brazos gruesos y calidos. Sus alas, muy despacito los rodearon. Como las de un búho protegiendo a su polluelo de la tormenta.

Y no dijeron nada. Asi se quedaron un rato.

Crowley se dejó reconfortar en un momento cuando no se podía negar el peligro.  
Azirafel pensaba demasiadas cosas una y otra vez y al mismo tiempo no pensaba…   
Y ambos sentían que esto era como abrazar a un hermano… y recordaban que, oh. Es cierto. En el fondo, eran hermanos. (O al menos lo habían sido)

Se pasaron así lo que podría ser toda la noche. Aprendiendo que realmente no necesitaban emborracharse para sincerarse el uno al otro: una crisis era suficiente.  
Mas adelante Azirafel intentó expulsar algunos de sus pensamientos.   
…Después de todo, ¿Qué había que n pudiera contarle a Crowley?

“…eres un ángel, Crowley. Caído, pero eres un ángel. …siento haber dicho que… no podías entender… ciertas cosas”  
…  
“Y… no se que… que haría, si yo cayera. Él no lo quiera; pero… pero se que, si tu no estuvieras, no se si podría… disfrutar la tierra. …No sería igual”

Crowley había vuelto del estado de shock; pero ahora empezaba a volver, por una razón distinta.  
“Lo que quiero decir… bueno, …mi querido Crowley. No se que podemos hacer, lo pensaremos, ¿Vale? Lo pensaremos y… pase lo que pase, al menos yo voy a estar aquí. Por eso no debes preocuparte. Yo voy a protegerte. Cuanto pueda. Te doy mi palabra”

Y Crowley cerró los ojos y suspiró profundamente. Olía a Azirafel, y olía muy bien: olía a hogar. Sentía que ahora, aquí mismo en sus brazos, podría dormir tranquilo. Por fin.


	4. Hiro at the park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it took so long...!  
> Tecnical problems. And also, I am sorry 'cause you asked for something very simple, and I made it like triple the thing...  
> Hope you like it!

You are not a genius of robotics, but you knew enough to have fun...and make money.

The only problem is, it is illegal.

You didn't need to design, encode or even build anything: you would just buy broken bots that had lost a bot fight (no need to pay much for a broken toy) and re-assemble them with an extra shield. 

Your bots were destined to fail again, but with all the shield they had (sometimes up to three levels) they could last half a handfull fights more, and that was more than enough for you to have fun and earn some extra money for your little wimps: a new phone, a videogame, more bot pieces...

 

Then again: the money part was illegal.

It is scary enough to get caught by the police during an illegal bot fight. Worse it is when it is not the police.

You where a stupid teenager. You only thoug of it as playing. You where confused when Yama appeared with his boys in a freaking van that occupied the way out of the street, the gang on the other side.

They walked throu, one by one robbing everyone of their bots and their money and puting it all on the van.

It was stupid to resist, or even call the police for, hello! Ilegal party here!

Then again, you were a stupid teenager.

 

Your bot was a recicled broken toy assambled toghether. While Yama's boys came throu the rest towards you, you had time to get down on your knees, and de-assemble the shield from your bot, 

making it look like broken pieces again. Yama's guys came up to you, and easily dismissed the thing. ...But not you.

One of them held you up by the forearm. And searched your pockets, and palmed throug your clothes. It felt scary and disgusting... and he was taking your money!

 

"Hey!" He walked away "That's mine!" You ran up to him and held onto his fist, tightly closed around your money.

 

Stupid teenager not thinking.

He grabed you from the whole arm and pushed you up against the van.

"Little girl wanna have fun?" He said.

It smelled bad, and was hard to breathe, and was terrifying...

 

"BIG HERO'SHERE!!" Someone shouted, and there was a wave of shouts and exited ghasps. Avove it, not even bothering to look up, Yama was shouting

"Get to the van! To the van!!" But there was no time for that, already.

The guy with the green blades was already on one end of the street. The lady wth the chemicals on the other (the van already stuck with one of those misterious sustances) The other 5 were jumping and flying in, into the caos.

And of course the big guys, the fliying fat one with the little guy on top focused on you:

One of Yama's guns was holding a girl against the Van.

 

The bastard did try to run away, but the red flying guy reached him in the air and held him down on the ground, where he was stuck by one the yellow's balls of sustance.

It happened fast, but meanwhile, the little guy in purple had jumped of and was next to you. 

"Are you allright?" 

You could not answer. it was fuckng Big Hero 6

"are you allright, miss?" His helmet added a bit of distorsion to his voice, so that it would be irreconocible without it. But you would never forget.

It was freaking Big Hero 6. He was talking to you, rescuing you... and he was as tall as you.

 

"Done!"

"Over!"

"We must go. Police's on its way!"

 

You still could not react. It was bitching fucking awesome Big Hero 6's purple guy right next to you and he was... 

fuck, he was gone.

 

The police did get there very soon. They would take everyone away and take declarations and you would be grounded for months.

But all you could think of was 'Big Hero 6's purple guy spoke to me... and I just froze and stood there. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid dumb teenager!!'

 

You were in a bad mode next monday (it had happened on saturday) bacouse you had been locked away, and shouted at, and grounded 'for years, young lady!' (those were your mom's words) and your bots were taken away from you alltoghether with the money you had won that night.

But that didn't really matter. You had allawys known it could happen.You were just in a bad mode.

It was the fact that you froze and didn't speak to Purple Guy that night what made you angry with yourself.

You had even told some of your friends, and the rumor had spreaded, and many didn't believe you, and you wouldn't give a fuck

...If you had spoken back to him. But you didn't. So it did make you angry and...

 

"Hey... hello"

You looked up. It was Hiro. Wasn't it?

"Hi..." What did this guy want from you? You had seen him from time to time around, but never did cross a word with him.

He would walk across the park to college everyday and sometimes see you in the way, but he had never spoke to you.

"Um... My name is Hiro, Hiro Hamada"

"Yeah, I know. Well, I am Name"

"Nice to meet you Name"

"Nice to meet you..."

 

There was a silence.

"Do you need something?"

"Eh? No! Well, I... just wanted to know if you are allright...?"

You just stared at him. Was he making a move on you or what? He was kind of cute acting all adorkable like that.

"Well, no. No big deal just in a bad mode here"

"Why? Well, if I can ask"

You shiged. "There was a guy in the street who was being an asshole the other day. Nevermind"

"Oh. I... I am sorry... hope you... well. You know if you ever want to... anyways..."

"Dude, calm down. It was nothing and I don't wanna talk about it ok?"

"...yeah. Sure. ...Ok. see you"

"See you"

 

He walked away. But just a few moments later he came back.

"No, ok I am sorry but I need to tell you something"

"...ok?"

"Look... I am sorry, I am very sorry... But I just... i was there"

"where"

"In the alley. In the bot fight. The other night"

 

Your eyes became wide with understanding. 

"Oh"

"Yeah"

"You where? What were you doing?"

"Me, oh, well... you know. I was... bot fighting...stuff"

"...you go to college. You do bot fights?"

"Well, yeah. not...illegal ones, usually, but... before college I used to make botfights and from time to time... I drop by. You know just... checking out"

"wow. Cool."

"Yeah. Cool."

"..."

"...So. I was there. When, it happened. You know"

"what?"

"when the police came... well, a bit earlier, when you were..." he cleared his throat "with that asshole"

"...oh"

"mh."

"... Oh, wait so you are worried! That's it? You worried for me, 'cause the guy was an asshole?"

"hum..." he passed a hand throug his hair, and then pointed "yeah. Kind of" and got it back on the pockets of his jacket, were he was fidgeting.

"I'm sorry to... bring it up, if you don't wanna talk about that. just..."

"Checking"

"Yeah"

 

Another silence. You breathed deeply.

"It is very nice of you, really... but I am fine. I was just being stupid"

"No. He was an asshole"

"Yeah, well. See, I am actually more pissed for Big Hero 6"

"What? wait, wh-what's wrong with them?"

"Are you kidding me? Thei'r freaking awesome!! All of them! Right there, meters from me! And... and the purple guy! My favourite, if i had to pick one 'cause, 

well, he and the red guy look so cool are so... in... watever. He came up to me, to talk to me! The freaking Purple guy from big Hero 6...! and I said nothing"

"Oh. W-Wow. So, wait, what was the problem again?"

"You kidding me? Most awesome guy in San fransokio and the rest of the land comes up to me to talk to me and I freeze! Stupid Brain too slow to react!"

"Wait. You are upset, not for the asshole, but for not talking...back to...?"

"The Purple Guy"

"The Purple Guy"

"From Big Hero 6"

"Right"

"Coolest guy on earth"

"Cool"

"... No! Not cool! Man, I was stupid!"

"No, you were not!"

"Yes, I wanted to... shit. I, why was I so..."

"You were shocked, ok? It is normal. Look. The guy works doing this stuff every night, right? He must be used to all kind of reactions"

"..." you shruged your shoulders.

"...and more importantly: He is not a famous pop star. He has no time for chatting. He has work to do. Important work. He has to help people. And he is in a hurry"

 

You feel the cloud of upset emotion crack and crumble arround you, like a cold realization hits you suddenly.

"You are right. The guy saved my life. We were all in actual danger, and here i am, bitching becouse I didn't chat with him"

"Right"

"...ok. Ok. Yeah, it was a pity not to be fast and say something but... it was cool. Just to have him so close and see him working"

"Cool"

"Yes, it was cool. It was really cool!"

 

You look up at Hiro.

"I won't bother you anymore..."

"Oh, is not a bother"

"Don't worry is just that... I have to get going but if you ever wanna talk... I'm arround. Ok?"

"Ok! Cool"

"Cool. Yeah. Bye!"

"Yeah, bye"

He left, and you stared a bit. 'he is kind of cool, too' you thoug.

 

You saw him again. Many times. And now you spoke.

Hiro and you made small talk from time to time, and soon you walked into the lab and met his friends.

They were awesome guys. You didn't know what was funnier, Fred, or Wasabi's face whenever Fred was talking.

And who was sweeter? Honey Lemon, or how Gogo seemed harsh, but sweet deep under?

...well that was easy. Hiro was the sweetest.

Of course you would not tell! Even thoug every single one of his frends looked at you funny whenever the two interacted in front of them.

 

And speaking of them... what a team.

They were so close... they were so nice and so funny but still you felt like you were a tiny little bit of an extra.

They were truly coreographied, and knew each other to the point of predicting each one's reaction or need, and they would speack in each other's ear a misterious secret no one else knew about... including you.

 

It was on your face the entire time. You should have seen it. 

Stupid, stupid teenager.

 

It was not untill Fred invited you to a comic com...

You went to the comic con, and looked around for Fred... It was full of people, cosplayers, curious, fans, shellers, buyers...

You took the phone and called him... he did not answer. You tried again while moving throu the crowd.

Fred finally picked up. But with everyone speaking arround you couldn't hear.

"what?! ... I am here... just coming in... throu..."

And you stoped talking. Shit.

Couldn't help to put down the phone. 

 

Among the croud, in front of you, there was a cosplayer dressed as Fredzilla.

(The only member of the group who said and wrote his name on missions, so people actually knew he called himself ' Fredzilla')

Who cares. It was him! Freaking him! Ok, obiously not him literally, but shit it was just like him! The same way you remembered that night.

How could a cosplayer...? Anyone! How could anyone make it so perfect and so...

 

"Hey!"

"Uh?"

The cosplayer walked up to you and took of the top of the suit. It was Fred.

"Here you are!"

Shit. "Fred..."

"Yeah?"

"...you look..."

"Oh, right! what you think?"

You looked up and down

"You look just like him"

"Yeah! Wait... him?"

"Absolutely..." You kept staring."I saw him once, you know? I told you. I must have told you"

"Yeah... you did"

"It is so real, so like him..." You touch the fabric of the suit. It doesn't just look like the same material: it is the same material, becouse it is hard.

It is not fabric, nor cardboard. it is something else, more rare...

"What is it made of?"

"Uh... dunno. Didn't make it myself. I, uh... got it online"

"where did you ge it?"

"Uh... I don't know, I had it for while..."

"How come you didn't show us?"

"What?" Fred seemed very nervious. Why? You were just asking.

"You love this stuff, when you got this cool as thing, why didn't you come running to show us?"

 

Fred stood still. He didn't know what to say. Why? 

"Uh... I..."

Hiro appeared from somewere to the right. She grabed fred from the arm and pulled him away. Didn't even say hi.

'What did I say?' You thoug. 

"What were you thinking? ...how could you bring that thing... idiot!" You heared her say.

And you were dumbfolded. You didn't understand. But something in the back of your mind started clicking.

 

Fred. Fred moved just like Fredzilla. His stupid name made sense. The way he was... shit, he was capable of something like that.

You know him. Fred was indeed capable to put on a thing like that on, (the same suit, actually) and jump onto the streets and try to be a hero.

...But he could not be, right? ...wait.

He was fast. And he was strong. He was agil. He did know stuff from around the lab... The lab! Shit. He did have access to the tecnology.

...Come to thik of that, what if one of the others was helping him? This was stupid but what if...? They were always wishpering. Allways with secrets...

 

It was imposible. It was not... real. Your friend, fred the funny idiot could not be Fredzilla. There were many guys like Fred out there and Fredzilla had to be...

Someone else.

 

You repeated that to yourself while sitting at the lab and watching saying dork funny stuff... while standing on a hand at the time he whielded a huge stick like the real Fredzilla did.

'It can not be... I am imagining things... I am exagerating, becouse I am obsessed and I...'

"You ok?" Hiro was sitting next to you. 

"Nothing..."

He gave you that look.

"Come on" Hiro knew you. He cared for you and was allways there to chat.

"I was just... thinking stupid stuff"

 

Hiro got something on his phone. You rise your eyes. Wasabi has his phone and he is looking over here. You know what's coming.

"I am sorry. Text me, well'l talk later... but I gotta go"

"Right. Busy guys, allways"

"We'll talk. Text me!"

 

And suddenly, you are alone in the lab. It clicks.

They allways do this. A misterious rumor spreads very fast and the entire team needs to leave for some misterious emergency.

...No one knew what was it. But they always left... and then spoke of how cool was Big Hero 6's last strike.

It clicked. You take your phone, and look it up. 5 minutes later, news flash: Big hero 6 was on the street right now.

You call Honey Lemon. She doesn't pick up. Nor Wasabi. Neither Gogo. Fred...

Hiro. ...and the sixt? Baymax.

It had the same shape. It acted like a robot. It was a robot. It was Baymax in red.

Holly fuck it was them.

 

You stare blanckly at them throu the screen. They are your friends. Fighting. Actually risking their lives out there right now.

It was them. For the first time, you are actually worried while looking at them fight.

Gogo nearly crashes, but she leaps and falls to the ground, and she gets up. Did that hurt? Will she limp in the morning? You can not ask her.

You can not tell them you know. Can you?

 

"I am sorry I had to go" Hiro and you walk on the park. How long has it been since you met? He is taller than you now. he looks... a bit more mature.

"You guys were busy" 'It was you, right? You saved us that night. All of us. You asked me if I was fine but I couldn't talk and you came to ask me later...'

You can not tell him.

"Hiro... what about Baymax?"

"What about Baymax?"

"...He is extraordinary. But there are no more. Wouldn't you sell him?"

"I don't want people to abuse him"

"But he could help people"

"yes, but if we don't do it right he will be sold for not many people, for a lot money and the idea was... to put one in each house and in hospitals and... well. It needs redisigns, and readjustments, and a lot of paperwork and..."

"It is complicated"

"Yeah. And it is personal. So it is even more complicated"

 

You two sigh.

"For... my brother, you know?"

"Yeah. Well, I don't know the details, but... Yeah"

"...He... Was awesome. He made Baymax all on his own. I you have no idea how much he had to work and try and test and try again, and waist the night working...and still it is extraordinary. And his face, when it finally started to work, was.."

You look at him while he speaks. He is getting emotional. He has been there for you when you needed to bitch around 'cause he is just that cool of a guy, you are happy you can be there for him now.

"...He did it all, 'cause he wanted to help people. Just that. It was not for himself. ...And later on I noticed..."

"yes?"

"...We had problems. Our parents died, Aunt Cas had a bushines and no idea of kids, and still tookus in. He had to grow fast. He had to help. He had to work so hard, and I was the one who needed him the most. You know, He was not perfect. He was a person. I remember him perfect 'cause he was my big brother and he was allways there"

 

His eyes are brilliant with tears. He can't help it. They come whenever he talks about Tadashi, even when he thinks is just a mention and he is cool.

You put your hand on his shoulder.

"Am I doing it right?"

"what?"

"He wanted to help. I try to but sometimes... I feel is just not enough. ...I really am quite egoist..."

"No! You help others. You build wonderful things you... You are always there for me"

"...You don't understand"

"Yes"

"No, there are things you don't know. Dangerous, illegal things I do he would not like"

"You don't know that"

"Yes I do. Remember the bot fights?" Oh, no he didn't "The ilegal bot fights I use to bet on, wich he allways had to drag me from? well, this is worse"

 

You take a deep breath.

"I was in one of those bot fights. I had no idea how dangerous it was. I was stupid"

"Come on, is not..." 

No turning back now.

"...and you saved me. You and the guys got there in the right moment" 

Hiro stares at nothing, processing, and then looks at you.

"...You came up to me becouse a dangerous man had me against a van. You got him off me, and asked me if I was fine"

Hiro stares, dumbfolded.

"I could not talk. And you found me later to make sure I was fine. And I was bitching about how I was grounded and I didn't have time to chat over tea. That is egoistic"

"...No. ...You just..."

"You do what you can, Hiro. All you can. And you don't need o be like your brother, 'cause you are not him. You are you, and you are perfect"

 

He looks like a fish out of water now. You smile.

"...How? ...How did you...?"

"Fred. Took his suit to the comic con. But it was in front of me all the time. I was stupid"

Hiro rolles his eyes.

"THE COMIC CON!?"

You laught.

"what the...!" The two of you laught.

You come closer, and kiss him, just a peck, on the corner of the mouth.

Hiro looks happy. How happy you are.

 

He then engulfs you in a bear hug that would make Fred proud.

"There are so many things I wanted to tell you"

You keep laughting.

"I love you"

 

And there is a soft, deep kiss Honey would love to have been there to capture in her phone.


	5. 2d x Murdoc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this one feels messy... I figure that's the style of Gorillaz...  
> Truth is, it's been long since I last wrote a full Gorillaz fic, toghether with history and all the characters...  
> Hope you can still find it interesting...

2-d Just knew his migraine would be healed by now if it was not for Murdoc.

He was worst at morning, or midday. Whenever he woke up, really. Waking him up in any way, was risky. Waking him up in a sudden or noisy way, was suicidal.

But 2-d was not the brightest bulb in the bunch, precisely.

 

He learned the hard way when he tried to kill an eagle with a hammer, and bad precision. 

Murdoc was fond of sweet revenge. And cruel jokes. And sadism.

And he did not care if it had been an accident or you didn't expect a punishment.

Also he was weak to any way of seduction: you leave your plate unatended, and he will pour hot sauce on it (if it was sweet) or a good amount of sugar (if it was salty)

 

But 2-d didn't seem to mind.

Russel and Noodles knew how to treat Murdoc: whenever he was an asshole they could stand up to him, or were just intelingent enough not to encourage him.

(That is, to ignore him) But 2-d did not. 

The other two allways thoug the poor thing was too weak to defend himself and too guilliable to understand the situation.

They could not understand that 2-d was content with how Murdoc treated him. It was odd, but it was just the way he was.

 

He had had a normal life. What many would call a "better" one. And he did not like it.

He had studies, wich he was never good at, and he had a job, with an asshole boss who would treat him "properly" in front of others and then treat him like shit.

And he had had friends, who where not there after the accident, and even a hot girlfriend, who fucked Murdoc.

 

And then, there was Murdoc.

He was an asshole, but he was honest. He believed 2-d to be idiot (and he was probably right) but he needed him, for he was handsome and gifted with an unique voice.

And so, 2-d knew Murdoc would never decieve him.

It was simple enoug. 

The place, (any place they inhabitated) were also not perfect by a long shot. But they were unique. They always had watever they needed and never did feel alone 

(Murdoc made sure of that) so, as life had been always a bitch, 2-d was happy with this one.

 

It had been nice while it lasted.

 

The day they lost Noodles, it all went to crap.

Murdoc had been the most irritable. And Russel had left them alone. 

And 2-d had no idea what to do, and it could still happen that Noodels would be found and Russ would be back and they could maybe...

 

So, becouse he had nothing better to do, 2-d stood with Muds while he was morning-level of irritable 24 hours a day. He just went throu the routine.

And the most odd thing hapened: as bad as it would get, he never thoug 'this is the worst. Gotta get out' no. He just went as far as to think 'this is starting to remind me of when I had a normal job' hu. how odd.

It got worse one day. 2-d had been an entire day without seeing or hearing of Murdoc, and it was peacefull, and lonely. And somehow it smelled of bad omens.

2-d had walked around the whole place, wondering where he might be... untill he found him.

 

Murdoc had passed out in one of the bathrooms. he had his head inside of the WC, a weird white substance dropping of his mouth and nose, and a needle still stuck to his forearm.

2-d had not paniked, becouse the shock was too overwelming for the panic to kick in. So he just reacted normaly. He walked away. And then remembered that Murdoc had probably been like this for a while, and just waiting wouldn't do.

Then he came back. "Murdoc?" ... "Hey, Muds?"

A fly walked up his leg and landed on the wite substance, were it died. 2-d gulped.

The vocalist went back to the kitchen, and looked for something to cook. He was not hungry, but he needed an excuse if he was going to wake up Murdoc.

After five minutes of straight hammering of frying pan and pot, (from the kitchen; such was the fear of Murdoc's wrath) he went back to the bathroom.

Murdoc had not even moved his eyes, rolled up and half covered by his lids.

 

2-d walked up to him and (carefully) kicked his leg. No response. He then hammered the pot and pan in front of the lifeless body.

And then, he panicked.

He droped pan and pot, and kneeled in front of Murdoc. Loosing Noodles had been heartbreaking. Loosing Russel had been painful. this was downright terrifying.

Loosing Murdoc would be truly devastating. 2-d held him by the shoulders and shook him like the pug in Man In Black. But there was no response. He shouted at him and then slapped the musician. Several times, and then punched him.

Murdoc emited a quiet groan.

2-d was so happy and relieved.

 

He thoug of leaving him there 'till it went away, but that may wouldn't do. So he held to one of his arms, and dragged him all the way to the nearest couch.

He put a cover on him, and washed his face with a cold water-humid cloth, and gave him water.

And Murdoc choked on the water.

 

He jumped and combulsed and threw up over 2-d and the couch and on the floor, and not happy with that he shouted and threatened and threw the nearest thing (an abandoned popcorn bowl) at the singer's head.

2-d sighed happily. He was back to normal.

 

Murdoc kept being an asshole while we slowly escalated back to health (as healthy as he had ever been) while the other made sandwiches or left a glass of water nearby for him.

When he was half-civilazed once again, he did mention: "Oh man. I'll never cross drugs again"

2-d didn't want to know what exactly did he put together. He just reminded him that he had already needed a multiple transplant, and received a shoe on the head for it.

 

"I'm gonna fix this" Murdoc had said "No more morning"

 

2-d believed he had meant 'mourning' but he did not say anything.

 

Well.Later, when he saw what Murdoc was trying to build, he freaked out. A little. He was used to this weird thing, after all.

 

"what is that?" He had asked.

"Don't touch anything" was all his answer.

"But what is it? ...It looks kinda... like..."

"It is her. It is the new and better Noodles!"

 

2-d didn't like the idea. But he barely ever argued.

"Russ won't like it"

"No one needs to know. If Russel doesn't like it we can get a new batery"

 

That hurt. 2-d knew bands change some members from time to time, but the members of this group had been together for so long 2-d didn't quite imagine it without the big, calm but plaiful, sometimes a bit brute guy. Nor Noodels. And they were both gone now.

"So, this is 'till you find a new guitar?"

"No no! She will be the new guitar, just like Noodels! Tecnology is so cool now no one will notice. It's called a ciber band you know? And we can dress her however we want..."

 

2-d had stared at him with his blank eyes, not knowing what to say. He did not like it, but he had no argument.

Murdoc sensed it and went into defensive mode.

"Well, out of here head-ache! Before you touch something!"

And throwed a shoe at him. 2-d just shiged and went back to his room. He made sure to go the long way, while smoking a cigarete, looking throu the windows to the always gary, sometimes slightly colored in pink and orange or a bit of blue sky ovar the cementery.

He lied in bed, wondering were was the real Noodles, and Russel. And then tried to picture the idea of a new percusionist, and a robot playing Noodles playing guitar.

... something did not feel right, but he could not tell what it was. He figured he could get used to it, and tried to sleep.

 

Next morning, he made up his mind.

There was nothing right now that held him back. Nothing to encourage him to keep it together. That was the problem.

It was not Murdoc. It was the band. His life was not there anymore.

So, he left a note (just to make sure Murdoc knew he didn't get lost nor kiddnaped, nor had an accident) and left.

 

And here's another odd thing: Leaving Murdoc behind was the worst thing that had happened to 2-d...ever.

It was comparable to when Noodles had been lost. But Noodles was posibly dead, and Murdoc was not.

Murdoc was alive, and it was 2-d who was gong further and further away from him, and it was a knot on his throat, a sick sensation on his stomach, an odd ache somewhere within his ribcage, making it harder to breathe.

 

So many things had happened since then.

And still Murdoc had managed to find him.

2-d had been lonely for a long time and had not seen a friendly (well. Let's say a known face) in a long time.

But that was no excuse to his behaibor.

It may be the heat. Or the dehidratation. Or the remains of the gas Murdoc had used.

It was very odd.

 

2-d stood for a moment looking at Murdc. But he said nothing.

"Long time no see ya face-ache..."

2-d jumped at his neck.

Murdoc found himself engulfed in a bear-like embrace.And of course, he had a reputation to keep!

He pushed the other away.

"Ahh what you thinking, man! I just need you for..."

Slap. Murdoc did not process that he had just received a slap. From 2-d.

"Did you just...?"

Slap.

"What tha fu...!?"

Slap.

 

Murdoc growled and slaped the blue-haired back. And he responded again. 

"why you little..." Murdoc punched the vocalist, and 2-d's face, 'till then quite plain and confused, turned into an angry one.

2-d started pawing at him just like an angry kid, and wen Murdoc held his arms, he recieved several kicks. One of them (not too hard) on his groin.

"THA FUUUCK!!" Murdoc pushed 2-d to the ground and kept punching him... the vocalist became even more violent: he scratched and growled and kept strugling and hitting him.

"Stay still staay still... dammit!!"

Both rolled arround hitting the coffe table and throwing a chair while body-fighting in the floor.

 

"What's gotten into you you...?" 2-d spitted to his face "eu!" Murdoc Held 2-d for the neck and shook him against the floor.

2-d breathed and stood still for a moment. Murdoc thoug he had calmed down, for a moment. Then, he noticed something weird.

2-d was wringing underneath him. Their legs tangled, pelvis with pelvis... and he was hard.

 

"Shit, what is all this... gettaouf me" But 2-d (or whatever had taken over him) didn't want to, and expressed so by grasping his hands apart and taking them to his mout... to bite.

"AOUCH!! DAMN YOU AND YOUR FUCKING STUPID FACE...!!!" they struggled to change positions, 2-d standing on top of Murdoc.

And taking full advantage of it. 2-d struggled and slaped and hit Murdoc until he changed his tactic.

"Ok ok ok! Stop it already!" and the attack ceased. 

 

There was silence, and both stood still for a moment. then Murdoc slowly uncovered his face, and 2-d hesitatedly reacted.

He leaned down and kissed Murdoc.

The satanist didn't know what to do. 2-d kept kissing him and started wringing against him with a quiet hum.

 

"No. 2-d... stop it!" He tried to push him away and earned another bite, this time on the neck. And with each shout and curse he received another bite until he had all neck, collarbone, shoulders and lips, and a bit of his chest, filled with bitemarks missing the two front teeth.

 

"Allright! what the fuck do you want?" Murdoc stood still and just contemplated.

2-d kept chewing on him, and kissing and wringing against him with increasing gasps. 

'Fuck evrything. At least do it propperly' Murdoc then undid both his and 2-d's pants and shoved his hands in.

The blue haired vocalist moaned and let himself fall onto him.

"Murdoc..." was the only thing he had said.

"Fuck" Murdoc managed it so that he was masturbating both their cocks together, and suddenly 2-d was back to a much more mellow form... more than he knew.

 

2-d sweet voice kept gasping and moaning sweet little sounds on Murdoc's ear, mufled sometimes by his neck, or ear, or against his neck...

To all of this was added the constant rocking of 2-d's waist, more and more demanding by the second.

"Oh... fuck... fucking shit...fucking..."

2-d quieted him with a demanding bite-like kiss. It was both Murdoc's eager push and 2-d management, that 2-d endd up empaling himself slowly on him, Murdoc's hands on his waist, leaving bruishes there.

"Ugh!!"

"Aaaah..."

There was dull pain, but 2-d was too angry and sad and excited and in drugs to give a care, and he just responded to Murdoc's hips... 

withing seconds 2-d was pushing himself up and down over Murdoc, both their voices reduced to animalistic 'as'.

 

2-d had started trembling, and he guided Murdoc's hands back to his dick, making him carass him.

Throuout all of this process, the bass player was going further and further into shock. Blurred confusion and passion taking over his mind. If he had been more awake, maybe he could have repressed the idea of finding 2-d's hald nude body sprawled on top of him and trembling and rocking and moaning with that expression, incredibly arousing.

 

2-d came all over Murdoc's hands and both of thei'r v lines, and then, slowly, like half asleep, he colapsed onto him...

...or he would have, if Murdoc had allowed it.

"Oh, no you don't" He muttered, and rolled over, pushing between his legs with all that he was.

2-d cried harder than before, and Murdoc contempled his face, eyes closed and aparently, peace and some form of concentration on it, as he pushed onto him.

It was one of those moments when you are very stupid and do something without thinking, and then wonder why you did it, that he kissed him.

And so he came breathing against his collarbone, and biting on it.

 

It was only later, when he rolled to a side, that he found 2-d's arms had been holding onto him.

2-d just kept his eyes closed 'till he soon fell asleep.

 

Thirty minutes later they were still liying on the dirty, messy floor. Messy clothes ripped apart just enough for sex and bites, fluids driying on their skin, and smoking some cigarrets.

"What happened?" asked 2-d.

Murdoc looked at him in shock, and then had a fit of hysterical laughter, and just lied twitching in the floor 'till he felt strong enough to get up, and eat something.

 

2-d came up later and ate something. He played videogames, and Murdoc joined him.

It felt like before, (before everything went to shit) but with a brad new, playfull sense of secret and satisfaction between them.

 

Murdoc thoug of it like something that was bond to happen, right? So long living together, he being such a passionate and sexual animal, the type of life they had and this... eh, thing between them... that he would never recognice.

 

"If you ever tell anyone, I bash out your brains" 2-d looked at him casually, wondering."No more drugs for you"

"So what's the plan now?"

"Now?" Murdoc thoug for moment... he nearly forgot! "Gotta find the others"

2-d gave him a large maniacal smile, and started a new game.

Maybe, turns out, he was a bit sadic too.

 

After the band came back, they all felt renewed. Like they had had a nice time alone-like vacations, but were back home.

Truth is, with or without big concerts and masses and stuff, they were still a band. And quite content together.

Quite like a family (thou they would never say out loud)

 

As for 2-d... he was just happy. Bedsides, Murdoc was in a far better mode lately! He even woke up less and less grumpy...

Maybe it was the excercise or the pheromones... Oh, well. 

The only problem lately, was finding time and room to be alone.


	6. Smut with Dick Roman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Writing smut with this character was quite unexpected...  
> Hope you like it!

"No. No way. She ain't going"

Said Dean

"Bobby, it is far too dangerous for her"

That was Sam

"Fuck you it isn't"

...And that was Bobby's answer.

You just rolled your eyes, again. This was your sweet family. (Castiel included. Just as papa said: family ain't just blood)

 

"She is as much capable as you two idjits an' yo know it! Why shouldn't she go?"

 

Sam and Dean tried to find an excuse.

"Er... no offense, Lisa" Tried Dean "Every girl's ever got into the job ends up biting it!"

"...And, she got hurt already! Badly, too. One atention call should be enough, ...right?"

 

"Oh, no you don't" Lisa spoke up. And the three pairs of eyes turned at her. "Good try guys. But not good enough. Aside from the multiple close calls you all had, you both have died on this job for fuck's sake!"

Dean shook his head like trying to diminish the facts. Sam just lowered his eyes like a sad puppy being lectured.

"My wounds are healed, thank you very much. Now's time to go back to work"

"I say no" Dean insisted. Idjit.

"And I say fuck you. It is that or 'oh, I'm sorry, humanity. Dean Winchester was an overprotective, sexist asshole, and didn't let me help save the world"

 

Dean babbled. The others kept silent. Before Dean could debate again, she ended the discussion.

"It is not your decision. There's a job that needs to be done and I am the one to do it. It is simple"

Sam kept his head tilted, but sent her a worried bro look.

"We will be right there with you. On the phone and on the speaker. Ok?" 

It was a question more directed to Dean than to her. And, well. Not a question at all.

"Be carefull. The trhee of you. In and out. No talking to strangers"

 

"I promiss" The life of the hunter is full of lies. 

It is harder to lie to your papa. The old hunter sees right throu you. But he is getting old, and you see right throu him too. Every little much as protective as the boys are of you, you are of bobby. He earned it.

But that's enough of family stuff; it is time for bushiness!! Man you are not the tipe for chilling in bed, and after last dance with the devil (Crowley will pay for that) you had waisted far too much time in recovery.

You were willing for going back to action. One job. As simple as it could be. Te boys wouldn't let you even that. But no more: today was your day!

You were a hunter after all.

 

And what a better way to go back to bushiness: This one job was simple, and quiet.Under cover. But with all the trhill and action of a normal hunt, since it happened in the lair of the monster.

You felt like agent 007. The best, new version. More secret than ever.

It was like your birthday.

 

Even thoug Sam and Deanny tried to spoil it throu the speaker on yout ear.

(That's what you call the older to upset him)

You dress for the ocasion: female gray suit with tube skirt down to half thigs. Black high heels, glases... just a pity your auburn hair was not long enough for a decent pony tail, it would look just like in a movie.

It didn't matter. Aptitud was everything and you were hungry for the world. If this monsters wanted it too, they would have to take thery place a the en of the clue, behind all the other monsters.

 

You walk up to the door. it is closed, but, pretending normality, you take out the fake key and introduce it in the lock. The miny drill fulminates it from inside. By the time anyone notices, you will be long gone.

Sam keeps giving you instructions as you walk throu the corridor and into the elevator, but you just roll your eyes. You could do this job on your own: You could stop at the computer at information, take a look at were was located the important stuff, and then just walk up to the most luxurious looking room... 

There we are.

 

You knock, just to make sure. No answer. Come in, look around. It is desert.

You walk in, and sit at the desk.You do have some notions, but Sam gides you right to the point.

Plug in the pendrive, select the archives, wait... and wait... and wait.

Aw fuck. This is going slow. 

 

"Sam"

"What's grong!?" You flinch.

"Dean, fuck off you nearly got me deaf! Sam, this is going slow"

"How much slow?"

"Damn it, ammy!" Dean's voice still sounded in the background.

"It says here it will be like... 20 minutes, but what if it takes longer? It could be hours or even get stuck"

"No way"

"Lisa, listen to me. That is not goiung to happen. the pendrive is fine. you are inside the sistem. There should not be problem..."

"You trust your hunter gut ok? If the thing is not going fast enouf in ten minutes you'r out of there ok? You hear me? Lisa"

 

But you didn't answer. There was the sound of steps coming closer to the door. You hunter sense was tingling.

You think fast: get up, go around the desk, sit on the other side, at one of the chairs in front of it.

You try to control your breath and heartbeat as you hear the steps come to a stop at the door, and only then think of covering the pendrive by throwing some paper on top of it, as you hear the handle of the door turn.

 

You pretend to check your papers, and then, slowly, casually, (smile! smile da fuck outta your face) you talk.

"Good night, sir. Dick Roman, I presume"

 

Right in your ear, you hear Sammy panicking, trying to contact you while struggling with dean, who atempts to get to the door of the car parked nearby the building. the idiots (idjits!) are gonna make it worse.

The man in the door looks at you like a predator deciding what type of animal are you. If it is not Dick Roman, the solution would be easy. You would excuse yourself saying you had...

"Nice to meet you, Mis...?"

Damnit!! It was fucking him. (Quite aproppiate, since he looked quite fuckeable)

 

You get up, improvising by the second. Stend your hand, and sake his firmly. You are a lady of bushiness, not a lady in distress.

"Lizzie, Lizzie... Secret. I am sure you were very busy to keep me waiting"

Dick Roman tilted his head, half confused, a tiny bit annoyed.

"I wasn't expecting your visit, Miss secret"

You pretend shock.

"Yu certainly were, Mr. Roman. Your assistant assured me an appointment today after office hours. They said you were very busy, and it is going to be just one moment"

 

But Dick Roman was not quite average human. He stod his ground. Defended his territory. testing how high you were in the food chain.

(leviatans are usually on top)

"I was not announced of such encounter, Miss Secret"

you try to think of an expression that will seem natural in this situation, and buy some time looking thoug your small pourse, for the phone.

While you are at it, you make sure to discretly take the speaker screaming in your ear with the voices of the Winchester brothers, pretending to fix your hair nerviously.

You make it seem like you check your phone. "One moment, please" Dick Roman nods with a hyena smile. You dial Sam's phone.

But it is Dean's panicking tone that assaults you first.

 

"We're going! Hold up, were are you!?"

"No! No, It is me, Lizzie, Lizzie Secret. I was told I had today a date, after office hours, with dick Roman"

"Wait, what? No, no, Lisa, get out now!"

"Well, check the date. It is urgent. I am talking right now with Mr. Roman, and I don't intend to waist his precious time"

"Lisa. Quit the joke. Just hold up, we're going in. Where are you?"

"What do you mean you are not sure!? This is poor management. No! Shut up. I will try to solve this with Mr. Roman you... idjits!"

And you hung the phone. Hope you made it clear.

 

"I am terribly sorry, Mr. Romans. Seems like it was a mistake by the side of our secretary... Hope we can still make it up to you?"

"Miss, I don't even know what are you doing in my office jet"

"Oh, right. There was no one around, but I had the appointment, or at least so I thoug, so I took the liberty of waiting you inside..." 

After the face he was making you added "Well, it seemed normal, given the... nature of the date"

 

He frowned a bit. "Nature?"

He was a predator. You could not compare and you could not aford to look lower... there was a third option. A mate.

"Mr. Roman, I trust you are familiarized with the Victoria Secret brand"

 

You waited. He didn't change his look, but in an akward way, wich seemed quite comical.

"You are... owner, of said brand, Miss Secret? It is quite late for such a... high standard reunion..."

"Oh, no, Mr. Roman. That is my name for the job, you know? As a proffesional on the... privet bushiness of the Secret brand. You know?"

You added a swag of waist to those words, dragging them a bit... tilting your head just a bit. A knowing smile. A confident look.

Just how human one of this creatures was? 'till now, nearly or all creatures you had encountered parted from a human base.

Demons and angels could have sex. Maybe lebiathans too? Were human enough their bodies?

Yeah. Research. Just that. You said to yourself as an excuse.

 

"I don't see what has... Victoria Secret to offer to our bushiness, miss... Secret"

"Oh, but that is easy, Mr. Roman. Anything can be related to anything and everyone can use our products. They go to eat a burger and they are reminded they can still feel sexy. Children eat while parents chat over the funny little ways of subtle publicity in the mantelets of your bushines, Mr. Roman. That will be our job. Your only job is to say yes, and collect the budget. The union of two companies as high as ours is an unmistakable win win"

He seemed to doubt. A voice in the back of your head, (problably sounded like Sam) reminded you there was not really a need for a deal. Even if he said no, you could take what you came here for and leave the mission acomplished...

Speaking of wich, what was that you came here for again? Oh, right. gotta buy time ayways...

 

Dick Roman smiled wide and politely, like a wolf.

"I will consider the offer, miss. Now, please, we both should be going... home"

You couldn't leave so soon. Had to make time!

"But you didn't taste the... peace offering"

He tilted his head. You swaged your hips, and started unbottoning your jcket.

"I am not interested on that... short of... thing"

"Oh you can't know if you didn't try!" You grasp his hand and shove it against your breast. Press very close to him and wisper on his ear.

"Close your eyes. Breathe..." You hear him sniff deeply... and feel him shiver.

Yes! His human reflexes were still there. His body had been modeled after that of an heterosexual man. He could be distracted from the fact that he could eat you... and do something a little more pleasurable for both parts.

 

You start kissing his neck, and feel his hand experimenting with the texture of your boob. You moan lowly and press slightly to his body in a smooth motion.

You feel him hesitate against you. He is confused. Good. You start biting and shucking at his neck, while carasing his chest. He groans.

Time to take things further.

You guide his other hand to your but. Let him squeeze. Then keep guiding him to carass down your leg, and lift your tigh, place your leg around his waist.

This is another way of experiment. How will he react to the new pose? You give him time to decide while you kiss him.

Soft, plush, on the lips. He doesn't react. His new body likes it, but it is new and extrange to him.

You gently progress the kiss, and lick his lip.

Once he tastes your mouth, he insists. He liked it!

 

With the entusiasm of the kiss, you nearly drop to the floor. You smile at him and drag him backwards to the table.

Before you can stop him, he unbuttons your shirt. 

Oh, fuck, you forgot to think of hiding your new... mark. The scar on your chest. 

He carasses it slowly, a butterfly ticklish feeling going down from your neck to your belly button.

 

You won't take the chance of him making any question: you slide of the shirt... and get off the bra.

He stares. Of course he stares. He had seen a human's body, but he had never seen it... like this. A new type of hunger in him.

So he dives in. His mouth kisses (as to test the texture) sniffs, licks, bites...and then goes up your neck and on to your mouth, and back again.

 

He is missing the best part. You'll have to show him.

You hurry into undoing his pants. He looks at what you do a little confused, but one press of your body against him... silences him with a hiss.

He gets the hint, and as soon as you drop your underwear he dives into you against the desk.

 

"Ahh... shh" It feels good. You were wet already and you like it a bit harsh. His expression is odd, determination and curiousity, wonder. He didn't know humans offered such possibility.

You guide him a bit with your body. He trusts, and it is so good. You both moan, and he keeps trusting again, and again, and every time faster.

You have an idea: take off his tie, and put it on your neck. This one is silver with a blue shine to it. It hungs between your breasts, and he looks at your chest like it was the first time he sees a sunrise.

He leans down, and tastes your breasts, nipple, circle, meat, flesh... from aside the tie.

"Ha! ... Um, Haa" He keeps trusting. He's good. Does his body keep memories from it's original life?

"Aaah!!" That was painful. Lacerating. You know that feeling: an open wound!

You grasp him by the hair and pull away from your chest.

There's a bit of blood on his teeth, and a too wide smile. He is trusting faster now. It is hard to concentrate... (but you need to do something, 'cause he is loosing control over his human form and his hunger, and just might bite you harder!)

While you try to think between trust and trust, his eyes catch on something... he looks at your arm. There's something in there?

 

He grasps your arm, and looks closely. For a moment his trusts lower in intensity.

There is a butterfly. It flies over some flower vines like it was following some path... he contemplates for a second. Does he wonder what it means? Can he actually like it?

He dives in and bites. Like he would eat the butterfly whole. You gasp so hard, and he trusts harder than before. The groan takes all the air of your lungs.

Seems like you'r gonna have new marks... (gotta think an excuse for papa and the brothers)

"Ahh!" Ugh... no time for that "Ah!" Gotta... do something..."Aah!!" with those theet...

"Roman!!"

"Yes!" His voice sounds very low, like a half-growl. He bites your neck, and pushes hard. You just feel his cock hit very deep in you.

"Wait!! ah!!" he is not listening anymore! He's going faster. Gotta distract him of the hunger. Gotta survive the fuck without being eaten...

 

You have an idea. You hurry up: hands trembling, take off the tie. Put it back on his neck, ...pull hard.

His breathing listens a bit forced.

"What's that for" he doesn't even slow his trusts.

"Trust me, just feel it" You tighten it, and he tilts his head back. Yeah, he's feeling it: the asphixia, it helps him concentrate more on the pleasure, and less on hunger.

You can see it on the black, large ends of his teeth-filled bouth going back to human... a bit. Need more of that.

 

You push the two of you, and lay him against the desk. At first he hisses (fucking hisses!) at you, complaining for loosing the penetration. Then you climb onto the desk, and it is very interesting the look of positive shock on his half-monster face.

He sits on the desk, to alineate his dick back under you... and you giggle. 

"The name fits you well" Yeah. You just needed to make the joke.

Your giggles break when he grasps your hips and crushes you down onto his cock. You gasp again and again, for he doesnt give you a secons of piece, going back to a fast rithm.

 

You adjust to the rithm and then look down and remember... oh, why you changed positions.

You pick your jacket and shirt and scrubb them onto his face.

He makes a gasping sound of shock, and you pull the tie end...

 

"Ahh" Yes! This way his monster mouth has no access to your flesh, and he is, again distracted from the hunger, and more concentrated on the sex.

You actually take notes for later: combining asphixia and a blindfold... nice. 

(There was an added risk to die sofocated, but not for a leviathan)

 

You finally can relax and enjoy... no, wait. you forget something... the pendrive!

You take advantage from his distraction (and blindnes) and bend over to take a glimpse to the screen.

Dick groans at the new angle. 

The download is complete. You rip off the pen, and, after a little hesitation, let it fall under the desk. In one last efort of concentration, you catch the off button of the screen.

Now you can enjoy. You breath deeply into one of his trusts, and once, again gide one of his hands to your breasts, ...the other to your clit.

You gide his fingers. You move them, slowly, and lift yourself on your knees up and bac down, faster, faster, faster! Ah! YES!!

 

You come, and tremble on top of him, until you fall forwards onto his chest.

You hear him grunt across the shirt and jacket while forcing the last trusts onto your limp form, utill, with one last hit, he goes limp, and gasps broadly, trying to get back his breath.

It just now ocurs to you that you must hurry up while he is... 'out' you get down of the desk (and his body) take the shirt and jacket of his face.

When doing it, you reveal a still half-reprtilian mouth, under calm, sleepy eyes ...when putting on the clothes, you realice the holes on it. They are ripped off.

He had bitten down on it when coming. That could have been your neck.

 

You pick up the pendrive in a swift motion and run off the place.

You remember to say good by with an excuse "Regards from... Victoria's Secret!"

You half walk, half run towards the stairs, while buttoning your shirt.

 

When you reach it, you nearly crash into something.

...And Dean nearly stabs you with the anti-demon knife. "Fuck! ...Lisa! You ok? ...What the heck happened to your neck?"

Your hand goes up against the wound instantly.

"Doesn't matter. Got the thing. Gotta run"

Sam jumps at you "Sure?"

"What happened with D...?"

You hand Sam the pen and dash down the stairs. "Run!Run!Run!Run!!"

The brothers just follow.

 

Could you get pregnant from a leviathan? Guess if there was any chance you just picked it up... well, just in case a pill wouldn't do you had to summon and torture stupid Crowley anywais... and he owned you a big one.

As long as the guys never knew what happened on the mission!


	7. Smut with 2-d and oc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone requested a smutty continuation of the first request!

Russel carries a bowl of spaggety recently coocked from the fire to the table... and calculates wrong: the bowl hits the table on its side and Russel trips over the entire thing.

You turn over to him and ask "You allright!?"

He gives you a tired look and a grumble... He didn't sleep last knight. Who could? 

You take a note: Tell 2-d to move to another room.

 

You help Russ fix the mess and apologize. He nods with a grunt. Sounds like the zombies from the mansion.

You go back to the improvised tv room where 2-d plays videogames with Murdoc. (Well, where 2-d beats the crap out of Murdoc, digitally) while Murdoc complains.

It is still a while for lunch, but you'r hungry already. So, food time!!

 

As you go closer to the living room, the echo of loud videogame sounds and music goes louder... only matched by Murdoc's voice as he complains for 2-d's superior habilities.

 

"Damnit...damnit...DAMN YOU! you wreck of a face with puppet strings...!"

You stay on the door with the popcorn, observing the situation: Murdoc stays upright, one foot on the floor, the other on the couch, remore on hand like it was a sword, ointing at 2-d.

"This thing is broken!"

"..." 2-d smiled. You noted that as a sign of his good mood... but of course you don't blame him: He had a good night.

"Don't you dare"

"..."

"Don't"

"You always say that"

"Gimme that thing you face ache of a...!!"

 

2-d is awake enough to run around the couch before hiding before you. Murdoc jumpes over the couch, throwing a coushin at him... and hitting you.

Your recently made popcorn bowl with extra butter falls to the floor face down. (well, you know. Murphy's stupid law)

The three of you stare at the popcorn like it was something much worse, like the silence after a bomb. And then, your acusatory glare turns up to Murdoc.

He takes a few seconds to tremble and run away, still bold enough to claim "...HE started it!"

 

You then take a moment (for efect) to turn to your boyfriend, who stands right behind you, biting his lip.

"ah... I am so sorry?"

You give him your worst glare, and when he nearly jumps to a pulp on the floor, you cringe and start laughting.

You can't get mad at him. Not for a bowl of popcorn. ...But his face is so funny!

 

While you laught, he picks up the bowl and some of the popcorn from the top of the little mountain, wich should be clean enough, and he gives you the bowl.

 

You hold it, and look at the little that is left, with a suspicious glance... should you eat this?

He laughts too, and picks you up bridal style. (Very clumsily; he is not very strong) By the time he sits at the couch with you on his lap, most of the popcorn are scatered around the floor, and you.

You just use what is left to throw at his face, and start a popcorn fight.

 

Once you ran out of popcorn the thing turns into a tickle fight. And you scream and giggle while giving up on atacking him, and trying to defend yourself... to no avail.

2-d holds your hands above your head against the couch, with one hand, and slips the other up your shirt, over your ribs with that maniacal smile of his...

"No! Nonono pleeeaaseee..." Bu he tickles you mercilessly, and all you can do is beg.

"Please! ahaha I'm sorry! ahh! I will never do it a-again! ja! I will get my ahah revenge! ...No nooo I am !! sorry! Please, aja! just let me go! ahhh Pleaase I will tell you what Russ did to your keyboard..."

2-d stops one moment and looks at you half upset

"But It was you!" and he starts again. You try to jump, but you are trapped on his lap.

"No, no hahaha please stop! Stop! ah!! I will do anything! Pleeeasepleasepleaseplease! Anything right now! Anything!..."

 

2-d stops, and gives you a moment to take in the stillness. You catch your breath, and tak in his expression. Hasen't changed much: He's planing something...

His plan is clear as day with how he dives into you, face on your neck, hand down you waist...

You feel his lips working as his hand creeps down and you have your doubths...

"eh... baby, don't you thi..."

He bites hard and tickles you again. You give a yelp and stay silent.

He kisses you lightly as to make up for the bite, and lets go of your hands. You embrace his shoulders, and kiss him.

He carasses your head, and with the other hand pulls down your underwear...

 

Russel walks in from the kitchen and just groans something about discussing boundaries before alking out the other way. The two of you ignore him.

You gasp. 2-d had carased your sex just to make sure you were ready. You look at his wide grin sweetly, as the two of you maniobrate to fit each other... 

He pulls you down from the hips and you let go a moan, grasping his shoulders, and stay a moment like this before you share a deep kiss and start rocking against each other.

 

"Shit! Feels so sweet" He gives you a sound that could be a laught or a groan, and he starts rocking harder and faster.

You cry. It is not painfull, but unexpected.

"Oh! sweety... ah! ah! You'been wanting this..."

He moans against your ear

"I always want you" He pounces in harder. 

"Ah! Ah! Ah!..." You are a bit unsure of the sounds you are gona make as the rithm increases, and opt for biting down on his shoulder.

"Shit! agh" He lies you down on the couch and holds a leg hooked over his arm, in order to control better the trusts. You can look at his face, determined, hungry... But a bit too far.

You scoop up to kiss him, and it is so messy the two of you roll of the couch and hit the floor.

"ouch!"

"sssh... you ok?"

"Yeah..."

"Good"

2-d jumps on you again, this time the classic stile. You tangle your legs on his waist and the two of you are so close toghether... so lockedto one another... and the pounding of your bodies against the hard floor...

And him biting all over your neck and collarbone.

"Ah-a-a! ...are you...?"

"uh? ah... a! yes?"

He takes his hand to your clitoris and carasses messily, it feels almost ramdom.

"AH! YES YES YES! AAAAHH!"

 

You come undone, and feel the constant preasure of his body, and he pounces onto you faster and faster a few times more... then he goes still.

His face is a mix of fury and pleasure, and your core is so sensitive right now you feel him coming into you.

 

Damn. You forgot to use a condom.

He colapses over you, and you just hide your face on his slender neck, and carass his hair.

He moans and breathes deeply. You will talk about that later. Right now, there's some sloppy kisses to share.


	8. Newt x Tina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The request for this was 23 fucking days ago.  
> Shameful. I am truly sorry. A lot of shit came out, and I had no inspiration for this.  
> It is no excuse. Next time a work seems like its going to take time, I'll try to tell before I make you wait so much.
> 
> That being said, this is Hurt Newt and Tina to the rescue! ...And a lot of other stuff that I just came up with.  
> Hope you still like it. I hope that, by making it longer and a bit deeper, I can make up for the long wait!

Most people idealize the first time they have sex. Or they kiss.  
Or fantasize over their future, perfect, more expensive than life wedding…  
They proudly joke in whispers and show of and what not with their friends…

But Newt was a sensible, shy, awkward young man.  
He had been very lonely for a long time… and he was hype reacting over how he had push Tina’s hair behind her ear.

!!!

And she might have liked it, because not only she didn’t complain, but actually said she’d love to get her copy of his book in person.

Newt was so excited.

The journey back home and the amount of work he had to do to get everything back to normal on his case (after the MACUSA guys entered it forcibly) and, of course, the publishing of his book, which was way more complicated and tedious than the actual writing, or even the many months that passed by… none of that cooled down his hype.

He kept thinking about Tina, and worrying if he was fussing too much, and it had been just a simple gesture, and she was so far away and she could have anyone else…

Little did he know, on the other side of the sea, poor Queenie could not stand anymore Tina’s constant toughs of him.

“Tina!” She said once in the middle of lunch.  
“…what?” Tina was actually worried. ‘Did we forget something important on fire? Is the neighbor thinking of murdering someone?...’  
“No, no, sweetheart…! Newt. I’m terrible sorry but can you just stop thinking of him for me to have a quiet meal, please?”

Tina looked at her in a bit of a shock, and Queenie just breathed deeply, muttered a quiet ‘sorry’ and went back to not eating her food. She just pushed it around with her fork. Tina knew that look. It was uncommon on her, but she was sulking.

“Queenie…” she sighed “Sometime I wish I could read your mind… or at least that you would just tell me what’s wrong”  
Queenie kept sulking over her food. “Nothing” She said, and stuffed her mouth with asparagus, as an excuse not to talk, and chocked on them, and had a way better excuse not to talk when going to coff onto the kitchen.

‘The poor thing…’ She listened her sister’s toughs behind her, and she hated it.  
She was a lovely person! She didn’t want to be jeallous!

But she was.

‘it is just not fair’ She allowed herself to think when she just could not stand it anymore.  
(Thinking to loud herself was sometimes remedy for not listening to other toughs, just like when you are wearing headphones) ‘Her dear Newt is far away and not coming back in a long while, and she didn’t even like him at first! …and yet she seem so happy… while my sweetheart is right here in New York… and he can’t even remember me! And to top it all, I have to listen to her every time she has a vivid dream with…’

“Queenie!!”  
“Uh?”

Tina came up to her runing from the window, a wide smile on her face.  
“It’s Newt’s!! He is coming over to deliver his book! It was a success in great Britain, remember?”

Queenie was still a bit confused: she had been so deep on her own toughs she hadn’t seen the owl come and Tine rush to it.

“…He is using the excuse of selling the book here on america to stay for way longer…”  
Tina kept chatting happily “Isn’t it amazing?!”

And she gave her such a smile. Quennie felt quite numb, a bit like empty, but she was used to that. So she just beamed back.  
“Yeah, that’s just amazing, Teeany!”  
“Right?! He will be coming soon, we could prepare the guest room… or, well, he probably will have his own place to stay… but we could make some dinner!”  
‘Fuck’ Thoug Queenie for herself, and tried to hide her sulking.

Newt didn’t come for dinner.  
He had politely refused for Tina to come pick him up from the ship, as he was going to be wellcomed by a reception for the shake of his book…  
But Tina had been so excited, and woke up early, and groomed herself, and asked a million questions over if it was fine, or gorgeous or too much (which wasn’t even like her!) and the food had been ready early… and then gone cold and he didn’t show up.

Queenie felt kind of bad for not being so sorry for this. She waved it away, telling her sister that Newt was a busy and distracted man, and it was just one dinner and she shouldn’t worry so much about it…  
And Tina had absentmindedly nooded and walked of to her room to take off the make up and the dress, to put on something more comfy…

Is not that Queenie wanted her to be sad! Is just that… well, Tina had fussed so much over this young man who she had known for so little, and obsessed so much over one dinner… that it kind of served her right. …Right?

Her blood run cold when she came home and found Tina crumpled over herself on the couch.  
“Tieeny? …Are you ok? …Is it Newt again..?”

Tina lifted her gaze, and the confused, chaotic toughs and heavy, downright miserable feeling flowed right into Queenie’s head.

Newton was missing. He hadn’t slept on his hotel. No one had hear of him after the reception. …Some of his privet notes had been found involved within an illegal beasts trade that afternoon.

Queenie did feel dizzy. Tina was angry with herself for thinking Newt had forgot her, and for being angry at him. She was sad, and feeling sick and miserable…  
And Queenie was too.

They ate just a little, in silence, and they spent the night awake, one, suffering, the other, listening to her sister’s quiet suffering…

Next day, there was an unexpected ring at the door, very early in the morning.

Queenie, out of guilt and sister protectiveness was mother hening over the house and went to open the door…  
And froze.

On the other side of the door, breathless Jacob Kowalsky seemed a tad too real, too solid, and too sweaty.

She sttutered. Of course she stuttered.  
“J-ja-jacob?”  
“…Hi, beautiful” He said with a tiny bit of the little breath he had, and then shallowed.

They both stood there taking each other in, she wanted to ask, but her brain was still processing. (Plus, taking in a rush of confusing toughs from bot Jacob, and Tina, coming up to her from behind)

Such was Tina’s shock that she gasped, not really getting any words across.  
Jacob rushed to say  
“Please, don’t shout! Just let me in, see, the lady downstairs made it real hard to sneak in here…”

Queenie barely had the nerve to react and press herself to the wall so the chubby man could walk thou, and closed the door.  
Jacob found himself suddenly in a close, kind of dark space, nose to nose with a very upset Tina.

“…Please! Before you… raise my mind, You need to know about Newt”

Jacob sat at the couch. He was visibly nervous, but Queenie perceived all of his fear, worry, frustration, and urgency… and a bit of sorrow.  
Tina paced back and fort in front of him, like a lioness who lost her cubs and still hopes to find them.

“How did you… what do you know?”  
“I… I know we met last year, during the… the oscuras… thing, and the animals got loose, and we run back and forth… and Newt…”

Tina handed him a nice cup of tea. He was so breathless and his mouth so dry he could barely talk. But he thanked her with a tired, friendly smile and she listened to him think  
‘Oh, how I’ve missed her!’ And she couldn’t help to think of how much she had missed him back, and those beautiful, gentle toughs of his.

“Newt contacted you!”  
“No. I contacted him. Well, he did… well”  
“Explain”  
“…He remembers”

Both turned to Queenie. She was sitting down on a chair, in shock.

“He just got his memories back, in time, by pieces. Whatever the water did to his memories, it… faded”  
“But that’s impossible!” Tina fisted her skirt. She was nearly trembling with the contradiction. “If he got back his memories then the whole city is at risk of… of… But there were no cases! No rumors, nor… If it wasn’t working we would’ve know by now!”

Jacob waved a hand to take the word while he took some mote tea  
“No, no, you see, Newton, explained it to me:” He inclined towards her, like he was about to tell a secret, or to explain something to a kid

“That thing was meant only for bad memories”

The pause sunk in, with the words, and both sisters took the meaning in.  
Everything that had happened, had been terrifying for the other nomajs… but Jacob had been happy, in lob, proud… all the way thru.  
There were some lagoones, for example: He remembered seeing Newt dancing with an estrange big beast… and he did remember shaking Newt’s hand on a lake for helping to get it in the cage… but he did not remember how he got to the lake or how they got the animal back.

Still, all in all, those were small things.

“But that… that can not be… you could think that it all was just an odd dream…”  
“Miss, have you seen my shop? I ain’t got the brains to make all that up, and I know”  
“…Your memories were never truly gone… If they were, you wouldn’t have made any of those pastries”  
“Right! As for Newt…”  
“You tell me everything and don’t dare leave one detail out”  
“Yeah! See, he did write to know if the shop was going alright… he used the excuse that he had passed by when he was in New York and he wanted me to send him some…”  
“Not that! Where is he!?”  
“Uh… Im getting there, woman! I had been going crazy with my weird memories coming back in pieces for a while, and I was sure this guy was part of it and wouldn’t let him go… so I wrote him back, and sent him some of my most artistic works…”  
“WHERE. IS. NEWT”  
“Give me one moment!” Jacob was talking so fast  
“Urgh!”  
“So I insisted, and he was shocked, and when he came back to New York… I managed to get him to get me back in the case…”

There was a loud gasp, and silence.

“He did what”  
“…He… was so happy…” Queenie related directly from his mind “…To have his friend back, and for the bakery… and Newt was never fond of rules, was he Teenie?”  
Tina remembered Newt’s sweet but rebellious nature and how he had been kind of right to be so “They just… Jumped in there, and had lots of fun” She smiled, breathless herself “Loads actually. The animals themselves remembered Jacob! He was actually enjoying the work…”

Then Queenie’s face and voice faded into a darker tone.  
“…then…”  
“All went to shit” Jacob finished his tea, and put it down firmly. See, this guys, suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and… they attacked us. They just jumped onto us! Newt tried to defend but… he told me he was not truly a very powerful withard. Fighting is not his thing… He told me to run. To seek help and… That’s what I’m doing”

Queenie looked at him, heartbroken an din love as never before.  
(Maybe once, in the stairs of the tube, under the rain. Jacob did not remember that part, except, maybe, for a kiss)

“…You came knowing we would wipe you again… for Newt”  
And he was so sorry, but at least happy he got to see her again.

Newt had been so happy, working again with Jacob.  
The release of his book had been a great exit! …And it had been exausting.  
He was not the type of person who felt comfortable with so much attention… plus, many people, like Tina, the first time he had told her, had seen the book as a guide for hunting down the creatures, and even thou he had been in uncountable reunions and news and so on and so forth, explaining the concept of protection of species and why it was important, many would still use the book for the wrong purposes.

This had taken the sleep away from him. He had, however, earned a decent group of followers who supported his ideas, and they were already making foundations to protect some of the beasts and their habitats… all the hype around the book had helped a lot.

But, going back to the case, with his good, long lost friend to work together with the animals… it made him forget the whole thing and how tired he was and…  
He better be carefull with the time! He didn’t want to be late for dinner with…

Oh. He had been walking around with a bucket of meat, listening to some of the animals making a fuss over something… and he found three estrange men on his case.

They had their wands out, and a net, and… and…  
A large cage, animal grunts coming out of it.

…was that his beetle? He didn’t really think about it: his maternal instinct snapped with one thousand red flags and he droped the bucket to draw out his wand…

But he was not a warrior. He was not fast. He had experience working with animals, but not three brute wizards.

Jacob heared his name in a panicked shout. He droped what he was doing as gently as he could and running back to Newt in case he needed help…

Newt was in the ground, a man had taken his wand and was registering him roughly.  
Other two were smirking, one had a net and there was a suspicious box, and the other was… the other was looking at him.

He suddenly had a dejabu about ruining for his life, creatures being involved, dodging spells as he got back to the little house that was the entrance to the rest of the miny safary.

He did not try to run up the tiny stairs: he hid in the corner of the supplies, putting over himself a dirty blanket, and a couple shacks of seeds in front, against him.

The wizard who came after entered the room, glanced around, and run upstairs. He then went back down.  
Jacob listened to him get out and walk away talking to his companion:

“Did you get him?”  
“No, I think he may have appareted… we better take the case and run”

Jacob stood in his hiding spot, barely daring to move, until he knew it was safe to leave to search for help.

Newt had to be muted, as he helplesly struggled and cried and insulted and threatened and begged for his beasts.

They emptied the occami nest. A shack for the eggs, a small box for the creatures. Newt’s hear wrenched painfully when they were torn away from the safe place were they were born, calling for their mom, and forced into a tight space. 

The bowtruckles, all of them went into another box. They did fight back, but all they got was a few, tiny limbs broken.

The demiguise tried very well to get away… it came to cuddle Newt and try to get him free, but Newt had been held down with magic and there was no way out.

The poor thing held tightly against Newt so strong, and cried when the man hit it in the head in order to tear it away and put it in another box. Newt had already been silently weeping, abut he hyperventilated, and nearly got asphyxiated with his mouth forced shut.

The last straw was how much fun they had destroying the niffler’s nest. They did tear it apart, and filtrated the sand and rock and jump and lied in the thousands of coins and other shiny things that had been the niffler’s home.

Terrified, the poor thing snuck into Newt’s pocket. He had to be in considerable distress in order to seek sanctuary there.

After they had fun with the niffler’s nest, one of them men (he had a hat, and a dirty vest. He kind of reminded him to a cowboy) came up to Newt slowly. He incluned down onto him, and took off the binding of his mouth.  
Then, he took a folded paper of his pocket.  
It was a drawing of the male graphorn.

The last breeding male. The one he kept on his case, wich moved around his enclosure with his female (last breeding female) and cubs.  
Luckily, this creature run around the place in what seemed like a large planice, and would take a while to come when Newt would call them…  
And Newt was not calling them now.

“Where’s this one?”  
“I… don’t know what your saying”  
He received a kick to his face. The pain was kind of dull, and became stronger in waves in the next seconds, but the taste of blood on his lip was very strong.  
“You have a full description of how they bred not one, nor two, but three little beasts. I want them”  
“Well” New avoided his glance stubbornly “You are not getting them”  
“What you say?”  
“…”  
“Crucio”

Jacob guided the girls to a dark and dirty back alley, were, apparently they rented rooms.  
He told them where they were: room number 293 (the place was bigger in the inside… and the management never minded what was done withing the rooms)

Tina told Jacob to leave, and wait at home with Queenie, but they both refused

“I know the case. Whatever happened Newt may need my help”  
“We are a team, Tina. I am not going to go back home now”

Tina nodded and asked for a paper mice. Queenie still worked as a secretary, and she always had some paper around.  
They sent an urgent message directly to miss Pickery, and walked in.  
They paid for just a few hours. Jacob smiled awkwardly. Tina seemed half scared to death, and Queenie happy and charming as ever.

The guy at the door had seen everything and barely glanced at them.  
They didn’t look like aurors, anyways.

They came into the room, which was empty. Aside from Newt’s cage.

“Oh, come on… you already lost the treasure… why don’t you tell me where’s the critter, hum?” A skinny, diry looking guy was croaching over Newt, asking him about the niffler. But Newt… Newt was not responding. Tina just saw his figure lying on the floor, against a wall, and blood. Blood on his face, blood staining his shirt.  
She saw red.

And then Jacob had the chance to see a considerably powerful witch in rage. The three wizards together, coming from different points, didn’t stand a chance.  
Not with Queenie watching from afar, wand in hand, just in case.

Once the three of them were reduced, Tina run up to Newt.  
Queenie took in her surroundings, and gasped in horror, from Jacob’s panic over what had been done.

Tina, gently, took Newt’s face in her hands, and rose it to meet her gaze.  
She barely got to see one of his eyes, half lidded. He had been beaten to a pulp, and there were also evidences of magic abuse and disgusting humiliation.

All done to sweet, sweet, caring, loving, brilliant Newt, who deliberately refused to say a word, taking it all in, for the sake of his creatures.

Tina let go of his face, and the magizoologist’s head droped to one side.  
He was not dead, but the pain that had been done broke thru Tina’s heart.  
She held Newt close, in a protective embrace, and cried, it all sinking in.

Newt was carefully cleaned and lied in his cot. Tina held a constantly clean and cold cloth to the wounds on his face, and spoke gently to him, trying to get him back to a gentler reality, but Newt was either in a semi-awake nightmare, or just not aware that they had been rescued, and safe.

“No…please…” His voice was a raw wishper “please…leave… them… stop… no…”

Tina wanted to comfort him, she wanted to kiss him, and hold him, and make him smile. She wanted his shy glances and his corquiness and the way he moved and made sneaky coments… and she wanted to make him now ‘I saved you, you are alright! I’ll never let you get hurt again… You can take care of your creatures, and i’ll take care of you…’  
But she didn’t know how. There was nothing she could do.

Then, Jacob came in. He was holding the demiguise in his arms.  
The creature held to him tightly, but Jacob had been working here, and knew what to do: he inclined close to Jacob carefully, and let the demiguise slip onto his cot, and take Newt in.

The demiguise was inteligent, and caring. It understood that things were peacefull again, but Newt was hurt. The creature just cuddled close to Newt and took his hand to its face, and to muzzle it with its lips, or to get a gentle caress.

Newt recognized the gesture, and somehow understood that his demiguise was out of that horrid cage, that it had not been killed and skinned, and it was alright, by his side.  
He cuddled back, and he did manage to rest a bit.

Tina did not fully understand Newt’s world, but she did smile at this tenderness. She looked at Jacob. He smiled sadly.

There was a lot of damage, but I think we all will live.  
¿Did he noticed he was counting himself withing Newt’s little world?  
Tina smiled back, sadly.

“If you go now, I could let you go with a warning…”  
“…really!?”  
“newt did his part when he was asked to wipe you. I have no direct orders over your memories… and if you leave fast, i could just leave aside the detail that you was here…”

Queenie smiled to her with tears in her eyes, hugging her man.  
“Thank you, Teenie”

And they were not there anymore. Tina was alone, with her sweet, loving Newt, happy to be there with him, willing to nurse him back to health. Never letting him go into danger alone again…


	9. bottom! Murdoc and 2-d

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was requested right after the hurt! Newt x Tina, so I have to apologice too for being late.
> 
> Next work will come way sooner, I promiss
> 
> PS: Im sorry this is not as porny as the requester wanted... it just came out like this...  
> as always, I still hope you like it.

People have this image of Murdoc, like he is some kind of crazy psicopath with a dark sense of humor…  
Why? Well, for his image, of course.

When he is in stage, or in front of a camera, he goes crazy! Like the entire wolrd was his personal weird playground…

…Just like anybody does when they go on a party with close friends and a camera.  
Just like any person who lives from the world of spectacle: they build an image, and they stick to it whenever anyone asks.

But, how is he in real life?

Only people who share day to day life with him know. That is, trhee persons.

Noodles was just a kid. She was unstable herself and didn’t understand many things. As she grew older she turned more and more calm and serious… but as a kid she had this image of murdoc, like he had double personality:  
When he was in playfull mode, he would be dangerous to be around, but you could follow his lead and get tons of crazy fun! Like he was another kid, just a bit older, and mean!   
…And there was the “sleepy” mood. When Murdoc seemed calmed and, spoke with a lower voice, and had a less agressive smile. Those times, he was not going to play chase zombies with a machete with you. He would chill at the couch, chat with Russel and play videogames.

Russel was already very mature when the band started. Young, yes, but experienced. He has allways been the most level-headed of the four. He didn’t speak much, and he played the drums, so he didn’t really behave any different at stage: He would always treat anyone the same way. No matter whan mood Murdoc was in.  
He knows Murdoc is a razonable person even if sometimes he will behave like an asshole for a funny show.  
Russel will argue with you the same if you dress like a nazi, kill his eel, or jump over him with a baby bike.

People think he is the stupidest of the four, but 2-d is actually the one who most understands Murdoc.

The two share one aspect: they both keep an appearence in public.  
Murdoc is the asshole, 2-d is the victim.

Truth is, Murdoc is grumpy. Specially after waking up. But aside from a couple of stolen car pieces or consuming suspicious substances… or getting in trouble with someone who would chase you with a car, he is a legal guy.

2-d, on his part, looks like a zombie… but when asked, he can answer to an interview. He has an opinion. He knew when his girlfriend cheated on him, and he knows when Murdoc is just using excuses to be a sore looser at videogames.

He also knows he is in love.  
He and himself. The two of them.  
2-d knows Murdoc’s behaibour is a protective shield, raised at early age, by a tormented child with an agressive and weird-ass family.  
2-d is so happy, just watching Murdoc have fun at the stage, being himself. Being as weird and horryble as he can, and beeing cheered for it… and 2-d is happy to be a part of it.

A more, inocent, harmless part to level the show.  
They are just made for one another.

Yeah, sometimes Murdoc will snap at him becouse he just woke up and something made him angry… But 2-d knows he is just trhowing a fit.

…at night, or at midday… or in very special mornings… Murdoc makes sure no one is at two houndred yards around, and all the doors are locked, and the windows sealed…  
And he will put down his solid, old as life stablished walls of self defense…   
To allow 2-d in.  
And only him. For 2-d, in bed, has such a gentle touch, a soft expression, patience…  
And that voice…

Murdoc wants all of that voice, and some sounds can not be recorded: some sounds can only be apreciated during love, mufled by lips and skin, and the numbness of after.

Murdoc speaks unsecure and low, and 2-d offers reasuring carasses and cmprensive wspers. Thre are sweet kisses in privet places and hot, deep wet kisses that take breath away. The leader of the band curses, and then wimpers, as his legs tremble and go still around 2-d, and under his hands, and he jolds onto him harrd enough to scratch him, afraid to fall, like the other is the only one thing holding him safe on earth. There are bites and harmless jokes to make him chucle or laught, and help him relax…  
And there is preassure and sex, and realease, and honesty. Only there. He would deny in front of anyone else.

Murdoc gives himself to 2-d, when no one can see. Trembling, and lost, for he doesn’t know anymore who he is when he is not in defensive state.

But 2-d knows. He is his.


	10. Newt and reader fluff and smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I did this way longer than it needed to be...  
> Sex scene is at the end of the fic.  
> Enjoy (and sorry for making you wait and making it so long)

Jacob’s sweet heart broke into a million pieces when his cute nephew anounced, very firmly, that she was willing to work in the canning factory, if she had to.

“Well, uncle Jacob did it, and he got his own bushiness!”

Jacob couldn’t tell her that he didn’t get it thanks to his work at the canning factory… but he had to keep her from going there! It was a crushing place, and she was… well, she was young and pretty and had a beautiful soul with faith in everything and… and…

They would eat her alive!

“Uncle Jacob knew what he wanted. He worked very hard for years, after coming back from war, no less! You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into”  
“I know what I want and will find out what it’s like when I get out there…”

They had this comversation a houdred times. Jacob probably should hide behind a newspaper, like the girl’s father, or pretend to have his mouth occupied, as usual, but he just had to intervine this time. Right? ‘Cause he could. His life was going so well, he could just suggest for the girl to work at his shop. What could go wrong?

His sister looked at him in astonishment. Truth is, she was old fashioned, and she didn’t believe a job was a propper thing for a joung girl. But it was modern times, and she didn’t want to look stupid: She had always thoug Jacob would never make a good baker ‘cause he was a man, and it was a girl’s job, and he had been on war and… yada yada

Plus, of all the jobs out there, baking was… quite convinient for a girl, unlike the goddamned canning factory

“Very well” she said, after a long pause “Take her for a few days to the big city, to work. So she knows how hard it really is and learns appreciate her luck”

And she said that with her ‘it will go grong and i’ll shove it on your face’ voice. But Name couldn’t hear it. She was so happy.

Her mother spent the next week being half cold at her, and making snarky coments about how dangerous and dirty and corrupted the city was, and how hard a job could be, and a thousand other things, many of them repeated ‘till the point you just wanted to jump off the window and be done with it. 

She knew it was supposed to be dangerous and scary, but she was willing to get there. See the city by herself. Taste the food, feel the preasure of an actual job, see all the temptations the city had to offer, wich people in her little town didn’t even know…  
Know the danger by herself… she was young, and she wanted to eat the world, source included!

…and when she got there, she got just what she wanted.  
She found with horror that she had brought way too much luggage, and took note to travel light from them on. She got lost, and pushed around, and preassured by the odd people in the croud, like abusive beggars and rude womanizer.

At the bakery, her uncle was quite nice to her, and patiently told her what to do again and again… she got it quite fast: it was quite easy and the shop was popular so there was plenty of practice!

She grew used to the exaustion and saved some money and enjoyed the wonders of the big city…

Specially one.

Uncle Jacob’s shop’s door’s bell clincked again, and Jacob beamed even more than usual at the newcomers: a lady of astounding beauty and… well. How to put it.

The most gorgeous creature she had seen in her life.

“Queenie! Newt! Now thats a happy surprise!” jacob came around the counter to salut the two and then gestured over his helper. “That’s my nephew, Name! She’s new in town, helping me a bit”

Queenie gave her a smile that she could only imagine coming from a fairytail princess.

“Well, nice to meet you, dearly!”

Newton looked at her. Smiled shyly, and then nerviously looked down and around.  
Only then did she realice she had ben staring at him with a shock-blank expression and half open mouth.

“Uh…”

Queenie seemed to understand, for some reason, and beamed at Jacob. “Isn’t she a sweetheart?”

Jacob’s nephew didn’t know Queenie could feel her thougs, and encountered a wave of sensations that could be translated to…

‘Shit there are no guys like this in my town… had never seen one like that! Didn’t know a man’s hair could be that tone and colour… and I’ve seen freackles, but never like this! Jeez they are so deep, like… like a cat’s markings or something, they are so… and he looks cute! So lean, and the way he dresses, and the way he stands… is he shy? Wow, he IS cute, boys at my town are allways rude and cocky, wish there were more like this… I want a ton like him! Wait, his mouth! What a shy smile… I wanna see him talk… ah! What will his voice sound like? I’m curious. I wanna talk to him…’

“Name?” Jacob tried to snap you out of it, but Queenie put a hand on his arm while looking at you with a smile, like stoping him, like she wanted to see more of your reaction…  
Still, self concious, she shook her head and smiled at the newcomers.

“Eh… sorry, I am new and… tired… so you are friends of Jacob! Nice… anything I can help you with?”

Queenie nodded at you and then looked at Newt expectantly. He spoke akwardly and smiled at you (and then looked somewere else again)

“No, eh… thank you. …And wellcome to the city”  
“Newt is new at the city too. Well, he’s been here before, but he didn’t stay for too long… no time for tourism”

Queenie spoke suddenly “Maybe Newt and you could make some tourism together! I know the most lovely places”

Newt looked at her in half show. Name just hoped that it could be arranged…  
But it was not. Not in the near future, at least.   
Uncle Jacob sent her to the back of the shop to clean some mess “or something” wich meant, that he had to talk with this pair of something private. As the back of the shop was quite decent, She just emptied the trash and sat on the street for a few minutes.

What could be the relationship between uncle Jacob and those two? And between those two? Could that man have an interest on her? Maybe not, but she had discovered something: what was her type of guy: cute, tall and lean, shy-ish… with freackles, if possible. There had to be some chance of finding more like that in this city… right?

Wrong. So wrong. But well, she didn’t know that jet.

It was later that afternoon, when Jacob told her to stay caring for the shop as he would be busy, that trouble started.

It was not the main hour, but there was still some clients coming in now and then, and she was busy. …but where did all the candy go!?  
Was it her distraction over the gorgeous man from today? No. The candy plate was empty. She refilled it again (she was sure) and it was emprty again.  
How did she? This freaking candies were so pretty, colorfull, transparent, with shiny grapping they nearly looked like jewels…

She refilled the plate again, and, a bit exausted over the whole thing, she rested her weight on the bar, looking at it… and saw it.

A tiny, clawed paw sliped into the plate and started snatching all the candy at a fast rate.  
She stared, dumbfolded, and then, carefully took a bowl and came up closer at a new angle… there it was. A tiny furred creature taking all the candy!

She quickly brought the bowl down onto it as to trap it, but it didn’t work. It saw her just in time and jumped away. She chased after it throu the floor and the bun stand and under it. …And then realiced this may take a little while, and she could not just let this thing get away! What if a customer saw it and thoug it was a rat? That couldn’t be good for the bakery…

Name turned around the sign from “wellcome” to “closed” a bit early and got ready to catch that thing. In order to do so, she hid behind the counter and threw a candy its way.

It took a long while, but candy by candy, the little creature came out of its hiding place and closer and closer to the counter.  
Reader left there the candy plate and crawled around the counter… and came upon the creature from behind with a mantelet.

Finally! She got it! …Now, what… was it?

It looked like a mole, wich was risky: moles have an infectious bite.  
…but it had a… ducklike beak! Some quind of platypus, then?  
Well, male platypus have poison in the claws of the hind legs, so that’s risky too.  
…Definetly some kind of exotic pet who scaped from someone.  
The poor thing. Where did it keep all that candy? Couldn’t eat it all! Physics, you know?

She put it in a box with holes and prepared to fix the mess of the place… and then saw in astoinesment how the creature managed to fit throu one of the tiny wholes…

Ok, some animals, like cats, rats and ferrets have a similar capacity… but this was supirior to an octopus fitting throu a bottle hole! How do you keep something like that…?

The door opened with a bell call, and she turned around to find her uncle and that sweet man, Newt, looking very nervous.

“There it is, the little menace!” He came up to her to snatch up the animal from her hands.  
“Oh, its yours? Cool! What is it?”  
“Eh… nothing, just some hamster of a friend…”  
“No, no, really. Is it some kind of platypus? Or a hybrid with something else?”

Newt looked at her dumbfolded. Jacob smiled.

“Just… be carefull. I’m afraid it may have consumed way too much sugar…”  
“Reader loves animals, just like you pal. She’s allways reading books of zoology and stuff… she even has her own theory about dogs!”  
“Is that true?”  
“Em, yes, but is not just about dogs… it revolves man and dog and how there man-dog relationship affected our evolution…”  
“See? She sounds a lot like you!”

Newt stared at you for a bit

“well… I did not expect that”

Queenie came the next day around, all smiles and excitement and chatted with her and took her shopping. She told her about Newt, and her sister and Jacob and… well, she basically set the two of them up.

Later that afternoon, Newt and her found themselves akwardly alone at the bakery.

“I have notice that animal you lost the other day, loks a lot like this sweets…”

Thats how the conversation started. That and with ‘I can’t believe people find you boring!’ And somehow it differed to licor filled sweets. And then, to licor itself. And Newt’s eyes brigtened with some short of emotion, like those times you suddenly meet someone, and connect instantly, and find that you fit perfectly so fast… and he says 

“Would you like to see something secret?”

And he somehow took her inside a case, were there’s a field, and a forest, and a rainforest, and a desert, and a floating ocean… and many, many creatures she had never seen in any book.

They talked about natural habitats and evolution, about the relationship between diferent species, and she got out of nowere a theory of normal animals like cats and dogs habing magical propieties that are just not easly noticeable, but that would explain many things… and Newt loved it. And loved her.

Then, she told him she would love to draw them all, and he told her he would love to have accurate drawings for his book, and she said she’d like to draw him. And he kissed her.

He wanted to say ‘Then you can draw me, if you want, if you are ok with it’ but he could not restrain himself.

When he had liked Tina, he could not restrain himself to hold her hair behind her ear before jumping into that ship. But Name, he felt like hit by a wave by surprise, and draged under water and rolled around ‘till he didn’t know which way was up.  
…or maybe that was the licor.

Name was a nice girl. She did what her parents told her… unless she could cheat her way around somehow, so she hadn’t been with a man before.  
…but mom and dady were not here right now.

So, no idea how, blame the licor, she just tasted the freackles on his neck and collarbone, and lower, and lower, tearing clothes out of her way, ‘till she found a nipple and was actually surprised by it. Happily surprised, that is.

Newt groaned at her exploring and bit her back, neck, mouth, neck again… and pushed clothes aside, and kind of lost balance, and they both ended up in the grass of some field not far from a jackelope burrow.

Newton was not thinking at all when he bit her breast. Neither did she. If she did, she would be wondering how was people so stupid as to make this wonderful act something tabu.

It was nature. Her legs curled around his hips and he trusted against her, and both nearly cried at the feeling… and then, hurriedly took apart what clothes remained so that they could feel it again, and again, and again… all the way throu.

She barely gained some clearnes of mind in the middle of the process, while holding at his hair, with his head in her chest, breaths hurried and syncroniced, and there was nothing wrong. She wanted more. Even now while doing this, they had to do this again some other tim…

“Oh! …ah ah!! NewAH! Ah ah ah…!”

Newton growled and bit the base of her neck, while trusting into her harder, faster, more erratic each time, and a wave big enough for a surfer to get lost crushed her ‘till she could not breathe.

Newt felt her go tight, and very wet, and limp all at once, and with a strangled cry, started suddering. “Name. Name. Naaa… ah ah!” 

And he too, went limp, on top of her. Breathed a little bit, and then carassed her carefully.

“I… ah. …I had never done this… like that… and you?”  
“…”

Only then he noticed she was still limp.

Oh. Oh! How to explain Jacob if turns out he had hurt her somehow?

“Name!!” he gently shook her face, and she (Thank god) opened her eyes.  
“…what?”  
“Uf, you ok?”  
“Uh… yeah, was nice… nap and all…”  
“Oh, good. …don’t scare me like that again. Uff”

Newt catched his breath, and noticed she was about to start fidgeting. He then embraced her carefully, carassing her, and appareted in his little cot, at the entrance of the zoo.

“Wow! Oh, right, magic stuff, right”  
“Magic stuff. Right.”  
“…Gotta show me more of that. ‘s amazing”  
“Sure… and, am, I’d love to get to meet you more, you know… you got some nice theories…”  
“aha. Yeah. Just… not right not. Now I nap. Dunno ‘bout you”

Newton smiled back

“Nap and cuddle”  
“Nap and cuddle”

Next time they saw Queenie, she went red, and stayed like that.


	11. Sherlock, John y Rosie en español

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han pasado años y Rosie es ya una señorita pero John Y sherlock aun se comportan como crios grandes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Este encargo me llegó hace tiempo, pero contratiempo tras contratiempo lo han do retrasando...  
> espero que no este mal!

Sherlock tiene una obsesión con el control. Y siempre la ha tenido.  
No es culpa suya: su mente funciona como si Albert Einstein viviera en un colegio de primaria, y todos los niños se rieran de él por ser calvo.

Sherlock lo ve todo al detalle y puede leer las vidas y, en parte sus personalidades en los muchos detalles que estan ahí mismo, pero nadie se fija.

A sherlock le fascinan los retos y le irrita cuando algo se le escapa…  
Y John lo save.

John le pica delante de todo el mundo, de forma que solo Sherlock puede entender, y lo hace cuendo estan en medio de una multitud o con conocidos o en medio de un caso para asegurarse de que Sherlock tenga que aguantarse.

Sherlock ve los gestos de john, oye sus comentarios, enlaza las señales y… cuando se quiere dar cuenta tiene una erección en presencia de Mycroft.

Mierda.

Microft compite con él en obserbación. Se ha dado cuenta. La mueca de su boca probablemente se dirije hacia su entrepierna y a todo esto, John apenas puede sostener la risa.

Son ya muchos años trabajando juntos, viviendo juntos, luchando juntos.  
Ambos saven lo que viene al llegar a casa.

John sube las escaleras corriendo, en vano, porque Sherlock le agarra del tobillo y le arrastra de nuevo hacia abajo.  
John se intenta defender (y la lucha se le da mejor que a Sherlock) normalmente procuraría no hacerle daño, pero se conocen el uno al otro: 

Sherlock esta cabreado y no se va a retener.

John le mete un rodillazo en las costillas y Sherlock gruñe antes de perseguirle escaleras arriba.

Salta sobre su espalda y lo derriba en el salón. Una vez en el suelo, Sherlock le hace cosquillas a John sin piedad, y el rubio se returece sin remedio, suplicando piedad sin resultado ni escapatoria, porque esta cabeza abajo.

Cuando Sherlock le nota cansado, le da la vuelta, se sienta a horcajadas y pone las manos alrededor de su cuello, y aprieta.

John podría defenderse, pero se deja hacer.

Y es que al igual que Sherlock tiene un morvo por el control, John lo tiene por el castigo. Despues de retorcerse por el suelo a carcajadas tiene que tranquilizarse para que le llegue el aire a los pulmones, y la bragueta se le queda ajustada.

Sherlock se mece cuidadosamente sobre la erección de John y este reprime un gemido. Entonces Sherlock se agacha para morderle en el cuello. 

En este momento mágico y enternecedor Rosie entra por la puerta.

Sus padres no estaban desnudos, solo estaban en posición… tirados en el suelo del salón, asique Rosie no monta un espectaculo: hace una mueca, muy parecida a las que hace John, y lentamente retrocede hasta su cuarto y se encierra alli.

John se deja caer en el suelo y se ríe con calma.

-vale- dice -déjame hablar con la niña…-  
Sherlock se levanta de las caderas de John y se sienta en su sillón, desde donde puede escuchar casualmente. John llama a la puerta de Rosie, que ya no es una niña ni mas ni menos.

Rosie tiene ya 17 años. Una melena larga, rubia y ondulada y es muy guapa, aunque no tan flaca como las sex simbol de la tele. Cuando su padre llama a la puerta, Rosie asoma la nariz casualmente por una rendija, como si fuera ella la que se asoma al cuarto de alguien.

(tiene momentos de estos)

-¿si, papá?  
-Solo quería asegurarme de que estabas bien… queríamos.  
-oh, no te preocupes, podeis seguir si quereis, pero, por favor, no en el salón.

Y no era broma: la habtación de Sherlock y John estaba hoy en día insonorizada, porque Rosie, a los 7 años empezó a preguntar que experimentos o ejercicios extraños llebaban a cabo el la habitación, cuando ella se iba a dormir.

Pero eso fue después de enseñarla a llamar siempre a la puerta, porque antes Rosie les pilló un par de veces enredados en las sábanas.

Había salido oportuna.

-¿Por que papá siempre está abajo?- preguntó una vez. John no tenía ni idea de cómo responder, porque a los 5 años, el concepto de seme y uke puede sonar raro   
-pregúntaselo a papi. Sherlock, la niña pregunta por qué siempre estoy yo abajo.  
-porque se trata de un experimento que tiene que ver con el ejercicio: papa hace abdominales desde abajo. Yo los hago desde arriba y hago las cuentas.  
-…ah.

Entonces Sherlock se puso a su altura y le tocó la nariz con un dedo frío que la hizo reir.

-pero es un caso confidencial y no lo puedes contar

Rosi no era hija biológica de Sherlock, pero lo compensó en la crianza: los otros niños jugaban al cucu tras mientras Rosie hacía deducciones.  
Rosi nunca disfrutó de un cuento clásico. Le parecían absurdos. En cambio, su papi buscaba historias de mujeres independientes y emprendedoras y se las contaba como leyendas.

Rosie se peleó en clase una vez: se le ocurrió decir que la sirenita era estupida comparada con madame bobari.

“Si tienes que defenderte, defiendete. …pero no le dejes marcas al otro niño. Asi puedes decir que eres inocente” John tambien se las traía.

El día que Rosi perdió su primer diente, hubo discursión en casa. John logró que jugasen al hada de los dientes, pero en cambio las navidades eran de estilo clásico: Santa se quedó en un cuento, Rosie siempre supo que los regalos los iba trayendo la familia.

Cuando la niña tenía 11 o 12 años, los otros chicos se metían con ella en clase.  
John estaba dispuesto a montar la guerra de vietnam en la escuela con los padres, pero Sherlock lo arregló de forma civilizada: tranquilizó a su hija y le encargó la guerra a Mycroft.

Mycroft, o, bueno, el estado se encargó de erradicar el bulling en la clase se 5º del instituto de Rosie.

Cuando a Rosie le llegó el periodo, ni siquiera Mycroft podía hacer nada.  
Este es el punto en el que la niña dejó de ser tan niña: sus padres estaban todo el rato encima de ella, preocupados, cuando ella solo necesitaba un ibuprofeno y que la dejaran en paz.

Asi, año tras año la pequeña familia del 221 b Baker prosperaba hasta el día en que…  
Bueno. Este día, en el que Rosie pilló a sus padres a punto de montárselo en el salón.

-Has llegado temprano… nos habríamos metido en el cuarto si lo hubieramos sabido-

Rosie asomó por la puerta –es que hoy he llegado antes-

-¿ha pasado algo?  
-…

Cariño, ven y cuéntanoslo todo.

Sherlock solo la llamaba cariño cuando había que hablar de algo serio. Rosie se sentó en el sofa, de cara a sus padres, en sus sillones.

-Todo el mundo que conozco esta hablando de a que universidad van a ir  
-¿y que pasa? ¿te has decidido ya?  
-…pues no me gusta ninguna. Aquí la gente es corta de mente. Se piensan que la única forma de tener éxito y prosperidad es ir a la universidad y luego casarse. No me gusta.

John y Sherlock se miraron el uno al otro.

-¿Y que te gustaría hacer, entonces?  
-bueno…

John y Sherlock se inclinaron hacia adelante esperando la respuesta

-¿recordais lo que quería ser de pequeña?  
-¡Claro! ¡Indiana Johnes!  
-No, Lara Croft.  
-Es lo mismo.  
-Bueno, lo que yo recuerdo es que todas las niñas querían ser princesas, y tu querías ser arqueóloga aventurera.  
-Si- respondió ella- pero los arqueólogos de verdad no van de aventuras. Se pasan el dia rascando fosiles.   
-Podemos ir de vacaciones.  
-Podemos ir de vacaciones mientras decides a que te quieres dedicar.

Rosie se lo planteó

-Papa, ¿hay algún puesto del ejército en el que se resuelvan crímenes? Me gustaría hacer lo que haceis vosotros, pero viajando por el mundo.

John puso una cara de terror. ¡Su Rosie, en vietnam? Sherlock se dio cuenta y le puso una mano en la pierna para tranquilizarle.

-No te preocupes, cariño. Hay muchísimos sitios en áfrica donde puedes ir como voluntaria para salvar a los elefantes o a los niños de un pueblo hambriento. Estoy seguro de que encontrarás tu nicho de mercado investigando los orígenes sucios del contrabando o algo asi. Hasta entonces, ¿que te parece si nos vamos de viaje a disneyland cuando termines el instituto?

La niña se hechó a reir y Sherlock aprovechó para susurrarle a John al oido

-No te preocupes. Decida lo que decida, aun somos jóvenes para ir detrás de ella

John suspiró y se dejó acurrucar por Sherlock. Después de todo, Rosi aún había salido un poco a Mary.


	12. Reader x Mycroft Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something happened and this took way toó long... But there it is.
> 
> This is more pointed towards Mycroft' inner turmnoil

Mycroft's mind palace was decorated in a similar fasion to that of the diogenes club: enourmous inside and outside, with tall towers to watch the world in silence, wich was quite handy, for it was settled in an iland. 

Yes, the world around him seemed to be a large lake filled with fish wich swimed arround minding their own bushiness. 

He could make out in the distance a piece of land with his brother's palace settled on it, but it was toó far away for his liking and if he tried to visit he would find it protected with tall, thick walls backed up with canons.

Comunication felt a lot like mail.   
Cold, poor, still efective. 

The sound of someone knoking on his door got him out of his thougs. He refused to acept distraction and concentrated on the papers on his desk.

"...Mr. Holmes?"  
"Mh"  
"Mycroft Holmes"  
"Yes, is there a life-threatening situation?"  
"...no"  
"Some urgent notice wich can not wait?"  
"No, just..."  
"Then you can leave and come back with a nice cup of coffee and a croassant"  
"...ahh"  
"You are dissmissed"

He heared the door close but hours went by and there was no coffee nor croassant. He did ask his assistant. She apologiced, for she didn't know he was expecting any, and she got them in less than five minutes.

Three days later, he met his brother, who was complaining over the timing and the results of the investigation and demanded for Mycroft to fasten things up

Next to him, Sherlock's companion-coworker-flatmate buddy was looking at him with wide eyes and side-loded expreson. 

"I simply don't understand why you can't wait like every other agent on the country"  
"Becouse it is urgent, Mycroft"  
"It is not the only urgent matter on the list"  
"But why should I waste my time when you can bend the case to your liking?"  
"I dont do so"  
"Yes you do"  
"I most certainly do not... And why is he looking at me with that face?"

John blinked.  
"Pardon?"  
"If there is something else you want to ask, you can just say it"

Sherlock went on   
"I only need you to make one call..."  
"Actually, Id like to ask..."

Mycroft looked down at the short man like it was a golden retriever offering him something coated in saliva.

Actually, within his mind castle, he still didn't know how to place him:  
At first he had feared it would be a stupid fishing ship irrumping into his territory unknowingly, to destroy the fauna or even crash on his brother's shore.

Later on, Sherlock had been so apreciative of him, and also protective, that he had thoug it could be a rare fish caught alive for his brother, and kept away like an exotic pet, or a dog to keep him active and in company.

He could also be just a flatmate, but that was unlikely, since these two lived and worked together, and so they spent all bloddy day together

"I was wondering if something had happened out of you'r routine"

Mycroft's lips twisted like he was being offered a dead, wet rat

"Nothing you recall at all, to possibly coment with Sherlock?"  
"No"  
"...ok. You'r loss"   
"My wha..."

He didn't get to finish the sentence. A cute lady dressed in shirt, jacket and skirt came with a notebook to interrupt them. He rolled his eyes and told her to 'Take note of my brother's demands and send them later to him together with some coffe'

To wich she answered with a "suuuure, jerk"

Mycroft turned arround suddenly, just in time to see a lithe figure with freackles and long, copper nearly curled hair turn and walk away.

He also saw an asshole smirk in John Watson's face and a dick expression in Sherlock's.  
"What was that?"

The detective opened his mouth, but John interrumped him.  
"Let him deduce it"  
"...right"

And before Mycroft could replay, they were back within the mess of the crime, and his pride prevented him from following them to demand an answer.

He did try to guess.  
He went to his mind palace and looked over the archives for any interesting woman that may have cross his way or his brother's, and none fit the description. 

Frustrated, he went to the tower and looked over the window, to his brother's palace in the distance, and the pond filled with fish at his feet. 

...was there something new? He couldn't see it from afar.  
...there was something in the water

He came back to the fisic land and called his assistant. 

"My brother seems to be meeting a new person. A woman, young, with long, dark hair. I want to know why"  
She didn't answer but with a nod  
"...and, please, bring me some tea"

The results came within hours.  
She was a pharmacist.  
There were photos.  
She had a very femenine pose and brilliant taste when dressing.

As more he contempled her worse the odd feeling on the back of his head got. Specialy after seeing some specific photos of her and his brother: he was chucling, then, lauthing. It looked like they were having fun!

Sherlock didn't usually behave like this. Not with strangers, who was she!?

He went back to his mind palace. Took the pictures with him. Searched all over the place, no clues about this woman. Did he delete something important by mistake?

After turning his mind library upside down looking for this lady for the second time, in bane, he breathed deeply, put them aside, and tried to calm down.

He walked up to the tower of his palace and looked in the direction of his brother's. But the mist was up so thick today he could barely distinguish its shape.   
He then looked down, defeated. And some odd color and movement called his attention in the distance.  
Could it be an usurper in the lake?  
He ran down the stairs and peeked throu a window. There was something in the lake, or was it just a ghost?

"Sir"

He jerked. His assistant was on the door, and he was staring at the photos for too long now. He started to look like Sherlock!  
"Free me some space in my schelude. I have to see my brother"

Of course his brother wellcomed him by sruging his nose and playing the violín agresively.  
John came from the kitchen asking "oh, what no... Oh."  
And with him, was that girl.  
"Oh" Mycroft said "Hello"

She seemed surprised, and, politely but in a subtle -fuck you- tone answered  
"Oh, me? Hello"

Mycroft still tried to get the most of it.  
"I don't believe we've been properly introduced..."  
"Really?"  
"Yes. I am Mycroft Holmes. Nice to meet you"   
Silence  
"And you are...?"  
"What, bedsides the one to fetch coffee and interrupt with bad news?"

Mycroft run out of patience and turned to sherlock   
"Who is she?"  
And sherlock went still. His face, one of shock, like he had spotted an interesting case.

"I don't believe it"  
"What now?"  
"...you came here entirely for her"  
"Absolutly not"  
"Yes you did!"   
"Im out" she said, and Mycroft tried to react fast, but had to fumble with words and turn in the last second to her, already on the door.

"Wait. Eh... I... Apologice if I did something to offend you. Please, do tell me your name"

After a small silence she said "Alba" and it took him a few seconds to remember.

Alba.   
The little girl he use to play with as a little boy.  
She was so pretty with freackles and pale skin and copper hair, and so smart and he loved her.

He remembered many races and silly games arround the lake near home, outsmarting each other and pushing each other's caracter, and being sad when he had to say good bye when he was sent to school.   
She was there a couple times when he came back for vacations.  
He had been so happy reunating with her and talking for what felt like an entire day, and sad for so long when she was not there anymore.

She was still pretty and with character. Would he still love her? 

They stared at each other. He had no words, she had nothing to say. The silence lasted so long that Sherlock and John dared not to disturbe it. They left silently and akwardly.

She still had freakles, and the copper hair... But she was no longer a little girl

He THEN reacted and had to say something.

"...I didn't know it was you"  
"I guess you are rude with anyone who walks throu the door"

Another embarazing silence

"I am sory, truly. ...I dont have much time right now, but I would love to see you again... To catch up"  
"Catch up"  
"Yes. Well. Exuse me"

He clumsily walked out the door, never taking his eyes off her, and left her alone in the room.

On the way back, he constantly replayed in his head the words he had said, and how stupid, clumsy, even childlish he had sounded.

He decided to calm down, and visited his mind palace.  
The words were recorded in an old disc player. He stopped it.

Now he could think clearly.  
There was an explanation for this. It was a natural response of the brain: going back to a situation of the past, or meeting someone from there could cause your mind to go back to the atached state... 

He had been confused, thats all.   
...had he really wondered if he could love her again?  
He thoug about it.  
He didn't think he could love her the same way, as when he was a child.  
...  
But, could he love her like a friend? He didn't have many of Those. It could be good for him.  
...and something more?

He suddered. It was suddenly kind if cold in his mind palace. ...and a bit lonely. Had it always been?

He got up and looked throu the window. Sherlock's palace was no longer surrounded by mist, but it was still unexpugnable.

There it was again! In the water! Some colorfull movement...  
He run downstairs to see it, and this time, he could distnguish it.

There was a large, beautifull fish in the water.  
He wanted it. To keep it from harm or dessapearing again. But he didn't want to scare or hurt it.

He went back to the fisic world.  
...and took his phone.

'I am very sorry I was rude. Please, let me apologice. Whenever you are free'

He found himself staring at the screen, hoping for an answer soon.  
He was excited when it arrived soon.

'Okay'

He smiled.  
Standing in the dock, he could see in the distance, a boat coming slowly from his brother's shore.

He didn't have guests very often. He would welcome her propperly


	13. John Winchester and her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was not so much a request as it was me being a troll.
> 
> See, my friend loves Mary Winchester burning jokes, so I thought "may as well write a fic for her"  
> ...she didn't love it... But I had lots of fun!
> 
> Don't worry, I changed her name

John Winchester was not known to be a good father.  
Of course, who could blame him after what happened to his wife? …still no excuse to abandone Adam. And the boys. Again and again.

…but Gema likes bad boys with tortured souls and rude modals.

He is a sexist asshole and she is a sarcastic, inteligent young lady with the power to shut his mout every single time. And he loves it.  
Not as much as he loves her taste for fashion. Being Supernatural, he has her on the bed after just a couple chapters. (And thats saying something!)

He rips her shirt open, and she doesn’t complain only becouse it was so hot.   
Then he proceeds to kiss her down the collarbone, and to her breasts…  
And then she looked up… and saw Mary Winchester stuck in the ceiling, in a broken pose, burning.

Now it was truly hot.

Gema screamed in fear, and John said “Hhhhmm Yeah…!” She kicked him of her chest and ran out of the room. Even if the ghost of Mary was not cooking itself slowly above John’s head every time he made another Winchester, it was not worth it.

She could deal with the angels and demons, now this was too much drama in the family.


End file.
